The Honeymoon's Over 10 of 12 in a series
by mccoylover
Summary: Jack's back from Canada with a new wife and a new set of problems, as he continues ajusting to life as DA of New York county. Bits from this season along the way. The usual crowd from this season, as well as a bit of Schiff, Stone, Olivet later on.
1. Chapter 1

Brooke McCoy was thumbing through the mail she held in her hand, as she balanced a purse and overnight bag on the opposite shoulder. Her husband set his bags down to unlock the door to their Manhattan loft. Without warning, Jack McCoy slipped the bags off of his wife's shoulder and scooped her off of her feet and into his arms.

"Are you planning on doing this _every_ time we find ourselves in a doorway together," Brooke gasped, as she began to giggle.

"Are you saying you'd have a problem with that Mrs. McCoy," a grinning McCoy began. Suddenly the he grew quiet as he faced the living area and realized someone had been in the loft while they were away.

Absentmindedly he lowered his bride to the floor, before slowly walking towards the row of wooden bookcases that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The chestnut colored bookcases stood empty; doing double duty as room dividers between the living area and the area that was to be their bedroom suite.

Brooke quietly moved their luggage inside and closed the door.

"After all we went through to get married, I figured you deserved another wedding present," she explained as she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, you have to be out of your apartment by the end of May. You can't just leave your books in boxes. You need a proper place to display such old friends."

"Old friends," he repeated thoughtfully.

He remembered the numerous nights during whatseemed like another life, when books were all he had to pass the time. He had used books to distract his brother and sister from the sounds of his mother's cries, during the hours they spent hiding from his father,in the basement of his childhood home.

"Brooke, they're beautiful. From the looks of them they must be handcrafted," he said as he hugged her. "But, this is too much. Work like this doesn't come cheap."

"Hey, you're not the only one that knows how to cut a deal with 'The Don'," she countered with a satisfied smirk. "In fact, if you really like them, Don says he'll give us however many other sets we want for cost and delivery. He said to call it a wedding gift from himself and Anita."

"That's too generous."

"I agree. But you have to admit we could use them. Even at full price they'd be a hell of a lot cheaper than throwing up walls."

"You never seize to amaze me," he replied as he reached for her again.

Brooke gave her husband a quick peck on the cheek and shook her head.

"No more of that until you bring the painting up from the car," she playfully reminded him. "I want to see how my present looks over the mantel."

"Your wish…,"he said in mock defeat, as he moved towards the door.

Brooke watched with pleasure as McCoy closed the door behind him. She had been inwardly sweating bullets, worrying whether Don Van Buren would be able to have the bookcases ready before their return from Canada. She also worried that her desire to please her new husband may have been overzealous, as well.

She knew how difficult the transition from the place he'd called home for almost twenty years to a loft in the Village was going to be for him. It wasn't until she saw the look of delight on his face when he inspected the bookcases that she was sure she'd done the right thing.

Picking up the mail from the bar, she sat down and began sorting it into his, hers, and 'junk' piles. Her eyes studied the last piece of mail carefully. When McCoy returned, Brooke still tapped the heavy parchment envelope against the bar.

"Don't tell me we're getting cards from our friends already," McCoy asked as he set the painting by the door and joined her at the bar. "I didn't think the _Times_ was running our wedding announcement until Wednesday."

"It's from the Craver Re-election Committee," Brooke said thoughtfully, as she ceremoniously laid the envelope on top of McCoy's other mail. "To District Attorney Jack McCoy and guest."

"May I ask what exactly did Melanie Craver do to get under your skin,' McCoy asked; his eyebrows raised.

"I don't trust her Jack," she said bluntly. "I've seen her debate more than once. She's very good at saying nothing when she wants to. She's equally good at diverting unwanted attention by oh so subtlety by focusing it on whoever happens to be vunerable to attack."

"Isn't that what politicians do when they want to win?"

Brook leaned back in the stool and picked up his mail.

"Wanting to win is fine, when you're goal is justice," she countered as handed him the pile. "Melanie Carver aligning herself with the new DA whose office just had a major win, would be to her advantage, not yours. How well do you know her anyway, Jack?"

"I met her at a chamber of commerce mixer with Arthur about a year and a half ago. In between my second divorce and my involvement with Vanessa," he said indifferently. "If you're asking if we were involved-"

"I _asked_ you how well you knew her. If I was asking you if screwed her, I'd have asked you that flat out, as you well know," she with a smirk."Now, open your mail, honey."

"Yes, dear," McCoy replied, as he rolled his eyes and tore the front of the envelope open. "Fundraiser for Congresswoman Carver at the Steiner Gallery two weeks from Thursday that includes a silent auction and – "

"What's that handwritten part at the bottom," Brooke asked, as she leaned closer.

"Something about introducing me to a professional fundraiser that Melanie's used in the past," he said handing her the card, as he began to go through the rest of his mail.

"Well, how very thoughtful," Brooke responded that implied just the opposite. "I wonder how many more of her trade secrets the blonde bombshell will be willing to share with you after she finds out you're off the market."


	2. Chapter 2

District Attorney Jack McCoy scanned the crowd near the entrance to the Carolyn Steiner gallery before he checked his wrist watch. It was a quarter to eight that Thursday evening. When he'd spoken to his wife more than ninety minutes before, she was just going into a meeting to negotiate a routine plea. Brooke had assured McCoy the meeting would take "twenty minutes tops" after which she would be on the next train bound for Manhattan.

McCoy stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. His right hand idly toyed with the small phone. McCoy was about to pull the electronic device out of his pocket when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Here alone, Jack? My event planner said when you confirmed, you confirmed for two," the attractive blonde said with a curious smile, as she handed the DA one of the two glasses of merlot she held.

"I was supposed to meet Brooke here at seven fifteen. The trains must be running late. She works in Islip and-" 

"Islip, Long Island," Melanie Carver asked in a tone that held a note of concern. 

"That's right."

"Then you've got quite a wait, Jack. I was listening to the news while I got ready for tonight. I heard there was a power outage in Long Island. Apparently it's bad enough that it's affecting the train service."

McCoy sighed as he brought the glass to his lips. If he hadn't promised Craver that he would attend her fundraiser, McCoy would have conveniently 'misplaced' his invitation and been watching the Bulls/Knicks game at Clancy's. The only thing that made these political functions bearable for him were the disarming comments his wife would whisper to him when she sensed he was growing bored or frustrated with what McCoy called the 'mindless prattle of people with more money than brains.'

Craver laughed softly when she saw the crestfallen expression that flittered across his face.

"Is the wine really that bad? I know scotch is your drink of choice, but the cost of a license to serve hard liquor at a fundraiser usually defeats its purpose."

McCoy looked at her quizzically for a moment, then down at the glass of wine in his hand.

"The wine's fine. I just didn't expect I'd be mingling alone tonight."

"Well, that's a problem easily solved," she said as she took his arm. "This would be a golden opportunity for me to introduce you to some people you might find useful when you start putting you own campaign together."

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By the time Brooke McCoy had checked her coat and made her way to the makeshift bar, the clock across thegallery lobbyhad just struck nine o'clock. She ran a hand through her auburn locks as she scanned the crowd for her husband and asked the attendant for a glass of soda water.

"Lemon or lime miss," the young man asked as he set the plastic cup in front of her.

"Take the lemon.The limes aren't even ripe."

"Lemon it is," she replied as she turned to her advisor and grinned. "Thanks for the tip, Adam. I have to admit you're about the last person I expected to see tonight. I thought one of the perks of leaving public life was you didn't have to smooze anymore."

The sound of the silver haired gentleman's soft laughter was enough to make Brooke laugh as well.

"Igot back from Europe last week. When I saw my invitation, I thought this event might be as good a place as any to catch up with some people I haven't seen in awhile."

"Does that include my husband?"

"The new District Attorney is at the top of my list," Adam Schiff said with a nod. "I told Jack years ago he'd be singing a different tune when his turn came. Not so easy to ignore the politics when you're the one sitting in the hot seat."

"If you've been reading the New York papers, you know he hasn't pulled that tune completely fromhis repertoire," Brooke said with a note pride in her voice, that made the former DA's smile deepen. "Have you heard about the Manning/Steele case?"

Schiff nodded knowingly.

"Yes. Ben Stone mentioned it when I had lunch with him a few days ago," he said with a sigh. "Tried those two together, did he? I remember when Jack tried that same trick before I left office. Looks like you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I must admit when I got Jack's letter and read about your engagement, I knew someone had to be pretty determined to get my friend to take another trip down the aisle. I thought that disaster he called a second marriage had cured Jack of any thoughts of trying the marriage trick one more time."

Brooke shrugged as she gave Schiff a sly smile.

"Come on Adam. I was just a poor widow woman when Jack and I met again. I hardly think _I _was the one with an agenda when Jack decided to pursue me."

Schiff's laughter was loud enough that the couple a few feet away smiled back at them, curious to know what the joke had been.

"The next time I go fishing Brooke, I'm inviting you along. You obviously know what bait to use to catch the big fish."

"Let's just say I know how to bait my own hook Adam," Brooke retorted with a wide grin as she glanced at the large group of people returning from the main exhibition area. "Any idea where I might find my one and only?"

"I just got here myself, but I did hear someone at the bar mention they'd seen Jack with the Congresswoman herself."

"Speaking of the Congresswoman, Adam," Brooke said with sudden seriousness, before she took a swallow of her drink. "How much do you know about Melanie Carver? Is she someone you trust?"

"Are you asking as a voter or a wife?"

"I'm asking as the wife of a man new to the political arena. A man who is suddenly getting unsolicited kudos from a woman who had the moxie to beat out an incumbent on her first time up to bat."

"What kinds of unsolicited kudos," Schiff countered as he leaned closer.

"Access to some mega fundraiser type," Brooke began, as a battery of reporters followed the Congresswoman and the DA into the lobby.

Brooke and Schiff watched with interest, as McCoy stood beside the Congresswoman while she fielded a variety of questions from the media about her positions of the death penalty, gun control, and the rise in crime in New York City. Schiff frowned and his gaze hardened, as it became apparent to him the message the Congresswoman was silently sending.

"If I go up there, she'll have pictures of herself with _two_ New York County DA's," Schiff whispered bluntly. "You need to get up there and shift the focus."

"Adam, I don't understand. It's a simple-"

"You asked me if I trusted her. The short answer's 'no'," the former DA said impatiently. "She's using Jack to send a tough on crime message to the voters. If you want to help your husband, don't try to understand. Just get up there and get the focus off of the two of _them_ and onto the two of _you_." 

Giving Schiff a quick nod, Brooke strode to the center of the crowd. As she made her way through, she sweetly excused herself and made a point of saying she was trying to join her husband. The reporters took the bait and an avalanche of questions descending on McCoy as flash bulbs nearly blinded the three of them; the reporters jumping on the chance to record the first official glimpse of the new DA with his wife.


	3. Chapter 3

"Nice picture," ADA Jake Cohen commented as Brooke McCoy took as seat across from him. "It looks like you're pretty comfortable playing the role of politican's wife."

"You know what Jack would say to that," Brooke countered as she picked up Cohen's copy of the _Daily News._ "You know Jack's not political."

"I know Jack_ thinks_ he's not political. The evidence says otherwise. Is there some sort of alliance forming between the New York County DA's office and Congresswoman Carver, Brooke?"

With a sigh, Brooke started flipping through the pages of the paper. That was just the kind of reaction Adam Schiff had warned her about at the fundraiser the previous night. The fleeting look of astonishment on the Congresswoman's face, when Brooke had joined her husband and introduced herself as 'Mrs. Jack McCoy', was almost worth the fallout. Almost.

"Absolutely not. You know Jack follows the chain of evidence. He doesn't let anyone yank _his_ chain; especially when he's deciding how he wants to handle a case. Now, _this_ is the real story to watch. Did you see it or did you take one look at that flashy headline and not even bother to read the rest of the paper?"

Brooke slid the paper across the desk back to Cohen. He scanned the article,as he nodded thoughtfully.

"A triple murder in Manhattan," he said disinterestedly. "Gee boss, I hate to point this out, but a triple murder isn't what I'd call an unusual occurrence in our sister city."

"It is when the investigation is leading to a political fundraiser Congresswoman Craver seems hell bent to involve my husband with."

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District Attorney Jack McCoy had just set his copy of the _Daily News_ down when Mike Cutter stuck his head into the office and asked if the DA had a minute for him.

McCoy set his reading glasses beside the paper and motioned for the EADA to join him.

"What do you need, Mike?"

"I just got a call from Ed Green at the 2 7. He and Lupo are on their way to pick up Victor Vargas in connection to that triple homicide last night."

"Vargas? The fundraiser? What kind of evidence do they have?"

McCoy listened carefully as his second in command brought him up to speed on the investigation of the deaths of three men; one of whomhad been linked to a prominent politican.

"So this men's room rendezvous," McCoy began, as he recalled the sting operation the detectives had used to gather evidence against Senator John Gilles, "was enough to get Gilles to give the detectives evidence against Vargas?"

Cutter nodded and handed McCoy a file that contained a transcript of the sting, along with Gilles's signed statement.

"Van Buren just faxed this to Connie. The evidence looks pretty solid."

"Jack, Mike, turn the TV on to channel 3. There's something you both should see," ADA Connie Rubirosa said as she joined the two men.

The three prosecutors stood in front of the set and listened as Congresswoman Melanie Carver gave a carefully crafted statement focusing on her regrets upon hearing one of her major fundraisers had been charged in a triple homicide. Craver was equally careful to be sure she expressed her sorrow at the loss of three lives in a senseless murder.

"We're sure this case is solid," McCoy asked as he turned to Carver.

"Green and Lupo are still tying up loose ends. But you've seen the file, Jack. There's more than enough here to secure an indictment," Cutter replied with a chuckle, as he glanced back at the screen. "Don't tell me you're a Melanie Man?"

"Considering the alternatives," McCoy retorted, while Rubirosa gave Cutter a discreet nudge with her elbow and cocked her head towards thecopy ofthe _Daily News _on McCoy's desk. "Congresswoman Craver is more than the lesser of two evils. As for the case, if you think you have enough to secure an indictment, follow with the evidence and see where it takes you."

As the pair retreated from McCoy's office, Cutter gently reached for his assistant's arm. After allowing herself to be guided into his office, Rubirosa waited for Cutter to close the door, before she asked for an explanation.

"Are you going to make a career out of watching my back," he asked with a chuckle.

"Only if you're going to keep inserting foot into mouth," the attractive brunette retorted. "Besides, I did the same thing when I was Jack's assistant. Back watching's in the job description."

"I doubt you ever told Arthur Branch you were trying to get Jack out of _his_ clothes."

Ribirosa's cheeks flared, as she recalled her conversation a few weeks before with McCoy. When the district attorney voiced his concerns regarding the new EADA becoming too 'friendly' with the young and attractive Rubirosa, she had felt an obligation to first take the heat off of her new superior and second, distract the DA from his suspicions long enough to keep the wedding present she and Cutter had chosen for their boss a surprise.

"It was either that or let Jack fire you for something I knew you didn't do," Rubirosa said as she looked down at the floor. "If I hadn't dragged you out of the office and –"

"I don't remember doing _anything_ I didn't want to do that night, Connie," Cutter said as he lifted her chin and smiled. "When we gave the gift certificate to Jack and Brooke, it was obvious you were right. They'll enjoy those massages much more than Jack would enjoy going through the BlackBerry manual every time he wants to hear his voice mail."

Rubirosa smiled back at her supervisor. In the few months she'd spentas Cutter's second chair, the young attorney had on more than one occasion counted her blessings. McCoy had assigning her to the young, fiery Cutter, as opposed to one of the old guard in the DA's office had worked out even better than she'd hoped.

Cutter could be demanding, even impulsive at times. Butworking for Cutter beatthe hell out of working with someone burnt out on the system or someone who viewed their assistants as nothing more than glorified girls Fridays; a person to pick up their cleaning or proofread their briefs, as opposed to a partner whose opinions were valued and considered worth hearing.

"Listen, you'd have done the same thing if the positions were reversed," she said as she reached for the file that lay at the end of Cutter's desk. "Besides, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I don't need Jack to protect me from you or anybody else."

"Does that mean you're ready to let me take you out for that dinner I owe you? Remember," Cutter explained, as he pulled out a chair for Rubirosa. "The deal was, if you found a better gift for Jack and Brooke, I'd take you to dinner at Twenty-One. What do you say, Connie?"


	4. Chapter 4

"The offer still stands, doesn't it Jack? If Vargas provides evidence linking these killings to one of the politicians he fundraises for, you'll bargain him down to an accomplish, as opposed master mind in the murders," Brooke McCoy asked her husband as the waiter removed the last of the dinner dishes. "That sounds more than fair and it also gives a guy who thinks roughing it is using paper napkins instead of cloth, a way out of spending the rest of his life organizing the breakfast buffet at Sing Sing."

McCoy nodded as he dropped a spoon full of sugar into his coffee.

"This case is still going to stir up a storm of crap in the political community I'd rather not have to deal with."

"I'm sure it will," his wife said quietly as she focused her attention on the glass of wine in front of her.

McCoy looked at Brooke over the rim of his coffee cup and sighed with resignation.

"Are you holding back because you know Adam will be here any second or because you don't want to look like a jealous shrew if you bring Melanie Carver up again?"

Brooke opened her mouth to shoot back a retort and paused, deciding instead to finish the last of her wine. She hated being so transparent, so territorial, especially so early in their marriage. It wasn't as if she didn't trust her husband. If wasn't as if she had any reason_ not_ to trust her husband. But there was something about Melanie Carver…the way she had suddenly taken an interest in furthering McCoy's career…the way she so smoothly maneuvered the reporters at the fundraiser ...the way she looked when she realized Jack McCoy was a married man...

"Actually, I'm holding back because I don't want to go to the gym with an upset stomach," she said as she gave him a kiss on the cheek and checked her watch. "I better run. I told Shambala I'd be at Gold's by seven thirty and it's seven fifteen now. Tell Adam to pick a date to come over to the loft for dinner."

"Consider it done," he replied as he returned her kiss.

McCoy motioned to the waiter as he watched his wife move across the room, meeting the former District Attorney for New York County a few feet from the main enterance.

"Adam, I can't tell you how often you're in my thoughts these days," McCoy said as he rose to shake his mentor's hand, a few seconds later.

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea," Schiff said with a chuckle as he gave his protege a warm embrace, before sliding into the booth. After the waiter took their drink order, the older man gave McCoy a knowing smile. "Not so easy now that you're the one getting calls from the governor, is it my boy?"

"Adam if you came here to tell me 'I told you so', go ahead. Not only do I have it coming, I'd expect nothing less from you."

As the two men joked, they spent the next hour exchanging stories of Schiff's work for the holocaust foundation in Europe, McCoy's bumpy road to the altar, and the younger man's decision to complete Arthur Branch's term as DA..

"When Arthur told me he was recommending you, I told him you'd give him grief," Schiff said with a mischievous gleam. "But I also told him, if he threatened to let the Mayor or the Attorney General make the decision, you'd have no choice but to take the job."

McCoy stared in shock at the silver haired man. Branch had let it be known how unsavory the alternatives could be if McCoy turned down the appointment, but McCoy hadn't suspected Branch had been prepped by the former DA.

"Adam," McCoy breathed. "You of all people? Why? You know how I feel about-"

"Yes, yes, I know you're not political. You've been telling people that line of nonsense since before I left the DA's office," Schiff interjected irritably. "Not political? You may not be a_ politician_ Jack, but you_ are_ political. Any decent member of society cares about how government does its job. That's what being political _really_ is."

"Point taken," McCoy said as he raised his glass to his lips.

"Good," Schiff said gruffly. "Now here's another point: If you want to have a chance in hell of surviving until the time comes for your campaign to start, you better learn the rules of the game. Rule number one: Don't let anybody make it look like you're in their back pocket."

"My campaign? Adam," McCoy said with genuine concern. "I said I'd finish the term. I _never_ said I'd run- "

"Oh please," Schiff retorted impatiently. "Spare me the self deluding drivel about not running next term. Do you honestly expect me to believe you'd work for the likes of Josh Latham or Norman Rothenberg?"

McCoy shook his head as he leaned back in the booth. He knew Schiff was right. The idea of working for a political hack, even one he liked personally such as Norm Rothenberg, was an idea he couldn't accept.

"You sound like my wife," McCoy countered with a sheepish smile.

"Well then, maybe you should listen to the woman. Obviously, she has a good head on her shoulders. She proved that the other night when she pulled your bacon out of the fire with Melanie Carver and that photo opt the Congresswoman engineered."


	5. Chapter 5

Brooke McCoy wiped the perspiration from her forehead before she turned to the woman who was about to step down from the treadmill next to her.

"Hey Shambala, we're not done here," Brooke panted as she struggled to keep up with the machine. "We have another fifteen minutes of torture left."

"Sorry Brooke. I have to cut this short. Ben's giving a lecture tonight and someone's got to pick up our daughter. I told Keesha's study buddy's mother I'd pick her up before nine," Shambala Green-Stone replied while she reached for her bottle of water. "Besides, you don't have to worry about saggy thighs any more. The hard part's over. You hooked him, Brooke. Now you can eat as many chocolate éclairs as your heart desires and rest assured Jack will still be coming home to you every night."

Brooke laughed hard enough that she nearly tripped over her own feet. As she grabbed for the handles on the machine, she gave Green an appraising look.

"Right. That's why_ you_ still look gorgeous, even in workout clothes. What size _is_ that anyway, Sham? A three? A _zero_?"

"You know good and well I wear a six," Green-Stone said indignantly. "I can't help it if I can't keep weight on."

"Oh, a _six_… I'd kill to fit into a six… I'll bet that bleached blonde with the face lift can fit into a six."

This time it was Green-Stone's turned to laugh as she listened to her friend begin the third tirade that evening about the Congresswoman Craver.

"Has Jack figured out you're paranoid yet?"

"Do I look _stupid_ as well as fat," Brooke shot back, as she admitted defeat and lowered the incline of her machine. "He knows I don't trust her. But only you and Cohen know I think she has her eyes on him. You'd be paranoid too, if some little Co-Ed gave Ben the kind of looks I saw that …woman...give Jack."

Green-Stone shook her head and checked her watch. As much as she wanted to stay and reassure her friend, she knew time wasn't on her side.

"Listen, Jack's known a lot of women. You're the one he chose. It doesn't matter what Melanie Carver or any other woman does. Now, call me in the morning and we can set up lunch for Saturday."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll call you," Brooke muttered as she reluctantly turned the incline back up and let her mind harken back to the evening of the fundraiser.

As she thought about her conversation with Adam Schiff, Brooke knew the bigger threat to her husband was the damage a woman like Carver could inadvertently do his career, rather than any damage she might like to do to Brooke's marriage. She shook her head as she stubbornly tried to get the sound of the other woman's voice out of her mind…

"Mrs. McCoy? Mrs. McCoy…You_ are_ Brooke McCoy," the familiar voice continued an increasingly impatient tone.

When Brooke opened her eyes she jumped and her eyes widened. Beside her stood Melanie Carver clad in a powder blue designer sweat suit. Hair pulled back, the lightest bit make up and perfume evident.

_Damn. She even looks good after a workout, _Brooke reflected while her machine mercifully began the cool down phase of the program.

"Congresswoman. What a surprise," she replied in the most civil tone she could manage.

"And probably not a pleasant one, at that," the other woman responded with a knowing smile, as she waited to the count of ten to add. "No one enjoys being caught off guard. Especially at the gym."

"True enough," Brooke said as the machine thankfully came to a stop. "I didn't realize you worked out here. I'd of thought you'd go to the Park Avenue facility."

"Actually, I do. But I had a meeting with the mayor this evening, so I thought I try the Midtown facility, rather than miss the workout all together. Your husband isn't with you tonight?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Jack had plans after dinner," she said as she started to move towards the locker room. "But I'll be sure to tell him you asked about him."

"If you have a minute, it's really you I'd like to talk to," Carver said as she pointed to the juice bar. "It looks pretty deserted over there. May I buy you a glass of carrot juice?"

Brooke waited until the attendant had brought their drinks and returnedto the other end of the bar, before facing turning to the Congresswoman. Opting for a V-8 as opposed to Carver's carrot juice, Brooke picked up her glass and took a long swallow before addressing Carver.

"You wanted to talk to me, Congresswoman. What's on your mind?"

"I realize you and Jack are both new to the world of politics, so I understand why you did what you did last night," the other woman began smoothly. "But, you let a golden opportunity for Jack slip through his fingers. Being seen with the front runner in the next election is a feather in his cap, Brooke. I like Jack. He's got a solid record of protecting the citizens of this city. I was trying to get him some exposure- somefree- press last night. Next time, you might want to keep that in mind before you jump in."

Brooke licked the spicy juice from her lips as she envisioned Carver's perfectly formednose swelling up like a balloon from a punch that would leave her on her ass holding her nose in horror. But remembering her husband's political future could be at stake, she smiled at the image and set her glass down, clasping her hands in her lap.

"Keep that in mind? I'll do that Melanie," she said as she leaned forward and met the woman's dagger stare with one of her own. "Perhaps, I can give you something to think about, as well. Jack's a hot commodity to many people. His integrity makes him a valuable asset to members of both parties right now and it is not in_ his_ best interests to appear to be playing favorites. Next time,_ you_ might want to keep _that_ in mind."

"It sounds like you've been getting a crash course on the game from…? Who? Arthur Branch," the other woman said with a catlike smile. "No, wait. Adam was at the gallery wasn't he? Yes, Adam would look out for one of his protégé and rightly so."

"That he would," Brooke countered. "But I'm his wife, Melanie. If anyone's going to look out for Jack, it will be me. And God help anyone that thinks because he's new to the game he's up for grabs."

"You don't like me very much do you, Brooke," Carver said as she took a sip of her drink. "Is it because of my politics or is it because you're like so many political wives? Are you concerned about your husband rubbing elbows with a bright, attractive, powerful woman that could help him with his career in ways you could never dream of?"

"You really want a scene don't you," Brooke asked with a chuckle, refusing to take the bait. "What are you doing, Melanie? Are you carrying a hidden camera or taping this on your cell phone? Trying to provoke me into doing something that you can hold over Jack's head to what? To show him what a_ real_ friend you are? To impress him into your bed," Brooke bit her lip as she thought of the story in the morning paper. "Or, do you want something you can use as leverage to get Jack to make those charges against your friend Victor Vargas disappear?"

Up until Brooke's final comment, Carver's face remained amused and relaxed. At the mention of Victor Vargas, the Congresswoman continued to smile her condescending smile, although her jaw tightened considerably.

"Hidden cameras and taped conversations? If you're this paranoid after one week of marriage, maybe you should be on medication or maybe you should just do your husband a favor and let him go now, before he starts his campaign and word gets out he has an unstable wife," Carver said with casualness that didn't quite ring true. "Jack's the one with the reputation for bed hopping, not me, so if I were you- "

"But you're_ not_ me," Brooke interjected as she stood. "If you were, you'd know the quickest way to get a prosecutor's suspicions up is to try to avoid a confrontation by hiding behind a smoke screen. You're wasting your time, Mel. Jack will follow the evidence. No matter how much he may like you, he isn't going to let a triple murderer go unpunished."

"You sound awfully sure of Jack," Carver said with a nasty grin. "Too bad you're not as sure of his loyalty you, as you are his loyalty to the law."


	6. Chapter 6

"I still think you're reading too much into this," Jack McCoy said as he drank the last coffee while his wife scanned the living room for her briefcase. "Melanie can be aggressive. I'll give you that. But- "

"But what," Brooke snapped as she looked behind the sofa. "You told me yourself Adam warned you last night about that woman."

McCoy nodded as he slipped his coffee cup into the sink and moved towards the coat rack by the door. 

"I'm not a child Brooke," he said as he lifted her coat to reveal the missing briefcase. "I've dealt with serial killers and child molesters. I think I can hold my own with Melanie Carver."

"Fine," she retorted as she slipped her beige suit jacket off the crowded rack and took the offered case. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Hey, come here," he said as he took his wife in his arms. He frowned slightly as he gave her a kiss on the lips and looked down at her with concern. "Are you sure you feel all right?"

"A little tired after the tit for tat with your friend last night, but otherwise I'm fine."

"I don't know Brooke," McCoy said as he felt her forehead. "You have a fever and you've been irritable the last week or so."

"You used find me challenging, not irritable," she countered with a chuckle. "Is the honeymoon over already?"

"Hardly,"he said embracing her. "But I did hear you get up during the night quite a few times, as well. You were sick, weren't you?"

"Only because that woman makes me sick," she muttered before seeing her husband's less than amused expression. "I shouldn't have worked out right after dinner. It was indigestion, that's all."

"I'm still going to hear what she has to say," McCoy said stubbornly.

"You're right. You're not a child Jack. You can have lunch with whomever you choose, even dinner," she said sweetly as she turned to open the door. "Just save dessert time for me."

McCoy's annoyed scowl softened, as she turned and gave him a wink before heading to the elevator.

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By the time the waiter had cleared the lunch dishes, Melanie Carver had successfully explained her confrontation withMcCoy's new wife away. Using a combination of flattery and embarrassment, she had McCoy almost convinced her remarks had begun with the best of intentions and had gone off track due to memories of her own failed marriage.

"…you have to understand Jack, my own husband just couldn't adapt to the life of a political spouse. When Brooke accused me of trying to well- I guess seduce you- it made me think of all those unfounded allegations Henry made before our divorce."

McCoy set his coffee cup down and met her gaze with polite neutrality.

"It's partly my fault. I should have told you that day -when you called me in Canada- I should have told youIhad gottenmarried."

"I have to admit, I've wondered about that more than once. Why didn't you tell me, Jack?"

"A desire to mainatin a sense of privacy," he offered candidly. "Brooke and I went through so much to get to that day; part of me didn't want to share it with anyone but Brooke. Even our families were kept on the dark until the last minute. I know it sounds childish, but-"

It sounded anything but childish to Carver, who for the first time in a long time, felt a twinge of shame. Brooke McCoy had been dead on when she accused the other woman of setting her sights on Jack McCoy. 

Melanie Carver had been attracted to McCoy immediately. They had been seated next to one another at a dinner McCoy was filling in for Arthur Branch at and his discomfortof all things political had been painfully obvious to her. The newly elected Congresswoman took him under her wing and spent the night making small talk. Later that night she had managed to get the EADA dancing long after the inquistive eyes of the press had left.

She could have kicked herself for not pursing him then. 

But the ink on her divorce papers was barely dry and McCoy himself had mentioned his own divorce had been a fairly recent event. When she ran into him just after his appointment as interim DA, Carver had been bound and determined not to let him slip through her fingers for a second time.

And she wouldn't have, if she'd done her homework sooner. If she'd known about McCoy's involvement with the former Brooke Malinowski before he'd gone and married the woman, Carver was certain she could have been the one McCoy spirited away to Canada. But, now...

"It sounds sweet not childish, Jack," Carver heard herself say as she prepared to turn the conversation back to the matter at hand. "I'm sure the two of you are very happy."

"That we are," McCoy said as he reached for the check.

"About Victor Vargas, Jack. It's hard to image he's mixed up in a triple murder," she began wide eyed and concerned. "You've met the man. Do you really think Victor has what it takes to kill, not just one person, but three?"

"I've seen people a lot less likely kill, Melanie."

"But Jack, the evidence is far from conclusive. At least, based on what the papers are saying. Can't you make this go away?"

McCoy looked up from his wallet and studied his lunch companion's face carefully. One of the things he'd liked about Carver when they first met was the fact she knew very little about criminal law. Her practice had been build on environmental law and once she married she had left law entirely to do volunteer work for political action groups. Her genuine naiveté gave her an air of innocence he had found refreshing, especially after his second divorce.

"Melanie," McCoy said in a patience tone, "three murders don't just 'go away'."

Carver pondered her response carefully, knowing to push would seem coarse and would be likely to arouse the former prosecutor's suspicions. Yet she knew one way or another, Vargas had to be silenced.


	7. Chapter 7

_By now you guys know I'm taking a _lot_ of license with 'Political Animal'. I hope those of you that are L and O purists aren't too annoyed by that. The material is just too good to resist. As I've told some of you, I probably should have named this piece 'Mccoylover Hates Melanie', lol. I just knew when I saw the episode, I 'd have fun creating conflict with Melanie and Brooke. Jack's about to get a new distraction that has nothing to do with Melanie, so be patient with me and keep on reading!_

"If you don't do it, I'm calling Jack and ratting you out."

"Go ahead," Brooke shot back half heartedly, as she returned to her seat across from Jake Cohen. "I'll lay you odds you'll just get his voice mail. He's lunching with Congresswoman Carver and I'm_ sure_ he doesn't want to be disturbed."

Brooke's already pasty face lost what remained of its color when she inadvertantly glanced the bowl of clam chowder in front of her. As she covered her mouth with a napkin, Cohen scanned the crowded dining room of The Barrister. A waiter across the room notedCohen's anxious glance and moved to investigate.

"Mr. Cohen?"

"Clear the table."

"But, sir…neither of you is finished," the puzzled young man began."Perhaps you would you like a to go- "

"Clear it," Cohen said with more force than he intended, as Brooke rested her head in her hands."Ms. Mal- Mrs. McCoy- isn't feeling well."

Turning his attention to Brooke, the waiter's eyes widened as he snatched the bowl from the table.

"I see. Was something wrong with the soup? I can send the Chef-"

"No. This has been going on all week. If you could bring the lady a glass of soda water-"

"Right away," the waiter said as he scooped up the remaining bowl and scurried off towards the kitchen.

"Damn and you didn't even get to finish your chowder," she said regretfully. "Jake, I'm really sorry- "

"Then let me take you over to Suffolk General or at least let me call your doctor."

"Jake, it's just part of the change. The hot flashes, the fatigue, the highs and lows. Dr. Connelly already discussed it with me the last time I was in. Sometimes indigestion is another sign. It'll pass. It always does. Just give me a few minutes and-"

"Brooke, you forget I sat across from you at the breakfast meetings we've had all week. You've been sick everyday this week and most days the last two weeks. I mean it, if you don't call the doctor I'm taking matters into my own hands. Hey,drink it slowly. If you guzzle it the cold will shock your system," Cohen warned as Brooke took the glass of sparkling water from the waiters tray.

"Who needs a Jewish mother when you're around," she joked as she squeezed his hand.

Cohen watched her carefully as he handed the waiter some money.

"Better?"

Brooke nodded as she carefully set the glass down.

"Jake, you know my calendar's full the rest of the day. I'm fine, really. Now, can we get back to the Jacobs case?"

"When I return," Cohen said as he abruptly stood and moved towards the bar.

_Oh hell, he really _is_ going to call Jack,_ she thought miserably as she set the glass down_. Great. Now he'll think he married not only a suspicious nag, he'll add fragile and sickly to the list… _

Brooke started to get up to go after Cohen, but when another wave of nausea hit her, she opted to remain seated.She clsoedher eyesand began focused on her breathing. After several minutes, she opened her eyes and did a double take when she found her ex- husband sitting in Cohen's seat.

"Jake knew I'd taken the day to come out here and put new screens in the upstairs windows for the tenant," Sam Prescott explained, anticipating his ex-wife's unspoken question. "I called Dr. Connelly. She has an opening in a half an hour."

"Can't," she said firmly as she shook her head. "I have a meeting with Michael- "

"Jake's covering it. I all ready called Michael-"

"God damn it Sam, I appreciate your concern but I _need_ to be at that meeting," she said as got to her feet and swallowed the surge of bile in her throat.

"Listen," Prescott said with equal annoyance, as he stood and put an arm around her to support her swaying body. "Danielle is not more than a fifteen minute walk from your current husband's office. If you want be stubborn about this, I'll just hit speed dial and have Danielle track Jack down. Maybe you'd like _him_ to clear_ his_ schedule so he can some out here and talk some sense into you."

"Damn it Sam, it's just more menopausal crap," she snapped as she snatched her purse and briefcase off the floor and started towards the door."Butt out."

By the time she'd made it out the door, Brooke's control over her churning stomach gave way and she lunged for the large potted plant by the curb.

After what seemed like an eternity,she staggered back, only to find Prescott's arm back around her waist and his handkerchief offered with his free hand.

"You remember how much I hated it when you gloated about being right," she remarked as she wiped her mouth.

"Yep."

"Then just drive and save the gloating for Danielle."


	8. Chapter 8

Jack McCoy watched as the man who so eagerly shook his hand, moved away from McCoy's office and down the hall. As VictorVargas entered the men's bathroom, McCoy almost felt sorry for the man. Vargas had no idea Melanie Carver was waiting for him on the other side of the door; tape recorder on and more than ready to put the final nail in the former fundraiser's coffin.

"Jack!"

McCoy turned towards the elevator. His face broke into a wide grin as his old nemisis marched towards him.

"Danielle," he said as he warmly embraced his friend and studied Danielle Melnick's sun tanned face curiously.

"Marriage seems to agree with you," he commented approvingly."I saw Sam the night before Brooke and I went to Canada. He told me you had to cut the honeymoon short because of the Drexell case. Too bad you didn't stay on the beach. From what Ron Craver tells me about your client-"

Melnick nodded impatiently as she took his arm and led him down the hall.

"We can talk about that on the way. Get your coat. Tell Lynn to cancel whatever you have scheduled for the rest of the day."

"On the way? Do you mind telling me where it is you're taking me," he askedas they paused in front of his administrative assistant's desk.

McCoy could see Melnick's glow was coming from more than just a good tan. His expression grew more puzzled when she took his hand and grinned up at him.

"I'm taking you home. Sam and Brooke are waiting for us."

"Sam and Brooke?"

"Listen. Brooke is fine. But Sam took her into the doctor after Jake Cohen gave him a call. Jack, you're usually so good at unraveling mysteries," she said with feigned severity. "Nausea, mood swings- don't tell me you haven't figured out _why _your wife has been under the weather the last few weeks?"

While McCoy's eyes narrowed while he looked at Melnick with bewilderment; she and the woman behind the desk exchanged knowing glances.

"I'll clear those appointments Jack,"his adminstrative assistant said with a grin."Maybe you better pick up a box of _Saltines_ before you go home."

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Sam Prescott sat down beside his former wife and handed her a glass and a pill.

"Now remember what Doc Connelly said; if that stuff doesn't settle your stomach there's a couple of other things you can try-"

"I felt better just having them put me on the IV to get some fluids back in me," she said as she swallowed the pill.

"Darlin' was it this hard the first time?"

Brooke laid back on the pillow and touched Prescott's cheek as she smiled.

"I was seven years younger, Sam. Even then, it was considered a high risk pregnancy. But, no. I had some morning sickness, but nothing like this. That's why I chalked this up to the change." she said softly. "My God, I still can't believe it. I warned Jack that getting married in the church was tempting fate. But I never _really_ thought…"

"Well whether you thought it or not, here you are," he said fondly. "You know, you're going to be a great mother."

"Don't jump the gun. I have almost eight months to go before we can count on the baby making it to term."

Prescott reached for her hand and nodded. He had been with her when Dr. Connelly had come back with the lab results and givenBrooke news that could only be described as a mixed blessing. After the initial shock began to dull, the doctor's laundry list of concerns and precautions began to sink in as Prescott drove towards Manhattan.

"I can't say you and Jack have an easy road ahead, but it seems to me a positive attitude isn't gonna hurt."

"Yeah, it won't hurt," she said as she closed her eyes. "Maybe if I could stop doing the math I'd sound a little more optimistic. Do you realize I'll be sixty eight when this baby turns twenty and Jack -Jack will be-"

"What Jack will be is thrilled, once he gets over the shock," Prescott interjected. "As for the rest of it, you can only take it day by day."

"Yeah, day by day," she repeated as she closed her eyes.

Prescott stood to join Melnick and McCoy in the living room after he heard the sound of the front door opening.

"How is she," Melnick asked as her husband kissed her cheek.

"I think her stomach is finally settled. She hasn't thrown up since we came over the bridge," he said as he turned to McCoy. "She fell a sleep about ten minutes ago. Jack, before you go back there, you might want to hear this."


	9. Chapter 9

"Hi."

"Hi yourself," Brooke said as she smiled sleepily at the man laying beside her. "How'd it go with Congresswoman Craver?"

McCoy patiently relied the results of the sting operation he and Melanie Carver had set in motion with the help of Lupo and Green. He chuckled as his wife's eyes widened when he told her Michael Cutter had called him after hearing the tape to assure him a guilty verdict was in the bag.

"It must be some tape."

"You must have had some day," McCoy said as he rested a hand on her abdomen. "Sam told me about all the tests your doctor wants to run, but he didn't mention a test for 'Linda Blair' syndrome,"McCoy added with a wiry smile, recalling his wife's fears from the night before their wedding.

As the pair laughed, McCoy kissed the top of her head and snuggled closer.

"It looks like you knew something I didn't in Canada."

"Oh God Jack," she said, suddenly serious."I swear, I thought I was late because of the change. That and the stress of all the changes that have gone on the last couple of months. If I'd had _any_ idea I was-"

"Hey, that wasn't an accusation," he said tenderly, while brushing away weary tears from her face."I didn't see the signs either and I've been through one preganancy already."

"A pregnancy you hadn't planned on, just like this one."

"Brooke, I know neither of us planned this. But that doesn't mean we can't be happy about it, just the same."

"You're happy," she asked as she sniffled. "You're really happy; you're not just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear?"

"When have I _ever_ said something just because somebody wanted to hear it," he demanded playfully. 

"Well I have to admit you have a point there,counselor,"she said with a chuckle, her eyes betraying her relief and excitement. "I have no idea how we're going to make this work."

"I had no idea how Liz and I were going to make it work, when we found out about Becky. But we did. You and I will, too," he said with a reassuring smile. "We have approximately seven months and three weeks to figure it out. You do realize what that means?"

"That we better start thinking about a nursery?"

McCoy shook his head as his hand carefully caressed her abdomen.

"We got married almost three weeks ago. A week after Sam and Danielle, to the day. When we got married -when you spoke to Father Angus about children? Brooke," he said with a mischevous smile,"you were already pregnant. I know it's early. It's hard to know exactly when you conceived. It might have happened the night of Sam and Danielle's wedding. But, you were definitely pregnant when we got married," he said as his eyes danced with wonder. 

"So you _do _believe in fate, destiny, and other things that can't be seen or touched," she asked with amusement.

"I'll tell you what I believe in," he said as he lean over her and moved the hair away from her face. "I believe in you, Mrs. McCoy."


	10. Chapter 10

"What do you mean 'the rest of the tape'? What 'rest of the tape'? You played that tape the night before you cross examined Vargas," McCoy said as he looked across his desk, alternating his curious gaze between Michael Cutter and Connie Rubirosa. "Did either of you hearing anything thatthe just didn't hearin court this morning?"

"Jack, we heard the same thing the jury did. Nothing else," Cutter said as Rubirosa nodded in confirmation. "I didn't mean to send up a red flag prematurely. The jury seemed to think what Connie and I thought; that Vargas was trying to run another scam. He was implying Carver altered the tape, but the audio guys downtown say nothing was erased."

"He has to be playing us, Jack. What other explanation could there be," Rubrirosa added. "When Carver stonewalled him in court, he looked like he'd just lost his best friend. Vargas obviously wants to take her down with him on the murder counts, maybe as pay back for her involvement in the sting."

McCoy nodded, unconvinced as he thought about his lunch with the Congresswoman.

_Can't you make the charges go away?_

At the time he'd chalked the naïve request up to lack of experience with the justice system and denial over Vargas's involvement in the murders.Then in her next breath, Carver had suggested a way to get Vargas to confess.Carver had been the one to suggest the sting …to suggest taping her conversation with Valdez in the men's room of the DA's office….

In _his_ office.

_Oh God_, McCoy thought as he leaned back and wearily rubbed his eyes. _Adam was right…and so was Brooke._

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"He hates being called 'John'…well…usually," Brooke confided, while blushing as she recalled the single set of very intimate circumstances her husband didn't cringe when she called him by his given name. "So naming the baby John James is out."

"If you say so, but I still think John is a solid name," Cohen replied as he handed her the file he carried. "Maybe you could call the baby 'Vito',as in Flores here. He'd be a _great_ namesake for your boy to live up to."

Brooke McCoy rolled her eyes as she tossed the file marked 'closed' on top of the small pile on the edge of her desk.

"Yeah. You just say that because Vito Flores just got twenty to life for stabbing his mother with a machete. Nice Cohen. Why don't you just admit it. You want me name the baby after _you_, don't you?"

"Well, if you were_ my_ wife, I would have put my foot down and told you there was _no way_ you were coming into the office after being so sick yesterday," Cohen said with mock indignation. "That alone should put me in the running for at least the _middle_ name with you."

Brooke shook her head and slipped her glasses on before picking up the list in front of her.

"Listen. Now that I know I'm pregnant, nothing spicier than a _Saltine_ is passing through these lips for another eight months. I'll be fine.You just want me out of the way so you can go after my job. Tough Cohen. You can wait it out until I go on maturity leave, like all the other vultures around here."

"Like you won't be back five seconds after you drop the kid, sign the birth certificate, and hand the baby over to Jack," Cohen said with a smirk."You forget, I was here for the _first time_ around, sister. _I_ was the one that made you go see Dr. Connelly when you started throwing up back then. You had no intention of quitting your job then. Why would you quit now, right after you got the EADA spot?"

_Good question,_ Brooke thought as Cohen grinned in triumph, before closing the door behind him.

She had been so relieved by McCoy's positive response to her unexpected news, she had simply fallen asleep in her husband's arms without even thinking about specifics regarding what would happen after the baby was born.The next morning she was ina rush to bathe and dress before the first train left for Long Island. Brooke didn't have the chance to even think about approaching her husband to discuss practical considerations such as who would look after the baby after it was born during the work day.

As she rested her elbows on her desk and pinched the center of her nose, Brooke went though the list of pros and cons that had been etched in her mind since her train ride began that morning.

It didn't take long for her to remind herself that the 'cons' outweighed the 'pro's' by two to one. It took her even less time to calculate how long she had before a first trimester abortion would be out of the question. She had Jack's age by the baby's twentieth birthday flashing like a warning sign for a fatal crash in the back of her mind.

"How the hell did I let this happen," she whispered before reaching into her bottom drawer and pulling out the copy of _Parenthood for Idiots_ she had purchased from the newsstand that morning.

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_How the hell did I let this happen _McCoy wondered as he heard a tap on his office door. Looking up, he was surprised to see Melanie Carver standing in the doorway.

"Melanie, please come in," he said, automatically on his feet.

"I just stopped by to offer my congratulations on the verdict," she said as she sat down across from him.

As they exchanged polite comments about Victor Vargas's murder conviction, McCoy searched the carefully made up face for a clue to the answer of the question he knew he had to ask.

After a few minutes, Carver stood. As she headed towards the door, McCoy impulsively called her back.

"Yes, Jack?"

"What did Vargas mean when he said 'listen to the rest of it'?"

"Jack, I have no idea," she said as she glanced at the open door before moving back to the front of his desk.

"Did you stop that tape," he asked softly; now sure of the answer.

Carver's smile deepened as she gave McCoy a knowing look and started back towards the door.

"Jack," she said with a soft chuckle."Don't forget to vote in the primary next week."


	11. Chapter 11

_A little fun with bits from _Illegal_ along the way. I am not paying any real attention to the sequencing from the show in this story. You will more than likely find events from the show out of order, although they all come from this season. Just a little poetic license to take my story where I want it to go._

"What if the baby won't take the breast?"

"Contrary to some lactation experts, formula won't scar a baby for life," he said patiently, as he fleetingly thought about a case from years before.

"What if the test results come back and the baby has Down syndrome," she persisted anxiously.

"The chances of that are one in a hundred. Let's hope our baby is one of the ninety nine that checks out fine."

"What if I decide I want to go back to work after the baby comes," Brooke asked as they paused to look out over the bridge.

The McCoy's were one of the many couple's visiting Central Park that bright spring morning. McCoy looked out across the bridge at the man made lake and then back at his wife. He knew she'd saved the question she was most concerned about for last. It was a question McCoy had anticipated almost from the moment Danielle Melnick had told him he was about to be a father again.

He remembered how important her career had been to his first wife. He remembered how difficult it had been for both his ex-wife and himself to strike a balance between work and family. He also remembered how badly he'd fumbled when there had been a chance for a second child so many years before.

He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

"When my term is over, I plan to retire from the DA's office. I'll be home to take care of the baby while you support me in the style to which I'd like to grow accustomed."

Brooke could feel her jaw go slack as she stared in shock at her husband. Of all the responses she'd expected to hear, this was one she had not anticipated in her wildest dreams.

McCoy started to laugh as he wrapped an arm aroundBrooke, upon seeing her reach for the railing to steady herself.

"Careful Mom," he said as he kissed her forehead.

"Do you mean that or is that you idea of a joke?."

"Listen, after that whole affair…I mean," he began with a rogish smile,"after dealing with Melanie Carver and that whole Vargas circus, let's just say I know what my priorities are. Honestly,"he continued, as his tone became more matter of fact. "Brooke, we both knowthere's no guarantee I'm going to be around when our child graduates from high school. I'd like to spend as much time with him or her as I can. While I can."

She knew his remarks were closer to the truth than she liked to think about. When they married, in the back of her mind Brooke knew chances were good one day she would face widowhood again. It was knowledge she accepted, but chose not to dwell on.

It was one thing to know she'd probably be on her own when her turn came to retire; it was quite another thing to think about raising a child without the man she adored.

"Don't even think it, Jack," she said anxious to change the direction of the conversation. She knew one day they would have to sit down and discuss the probablity of her husband's death and plan accordingly. But not yet. Not on this beautiful spring day, when everything seemed almost too perfect."As for retirement, come on. Even if you don't want to be DA, you could still practice privately or teach or even lecture…maybe write a book. As much as I love the idea of the baby being with one of us all the time, I just don't see you trading your briefs for diapers."

"Maybe not cloth, but with disposables around, you might be surprised," he joked as he hugged her to him.

Before she could think of a witty comeback, Brooke found herself shoved further into his embrace as a platoon of auxiliary police officers dashed passed them andtowards the south end of the park.

"Hey," McCoy snapped as he reached for one of the officers arms. As he read his nameplate, McCoy used his other hand to pull out his indentification. "Jenkins? Is there a problem in the park?"

The officer started to protest, abruptly stopping as he read McCoy's identification card and squinted at his badge.

"Immigration rally in the park today," he explained. "The crowd started out pretty quiet. Now there are reports of bottles being thrown at some of the city cops and..."

The officer paused to listen to the update coming from the walkie talkie on his belt. When he heard the phrase 'green light' he started to run.

"Excuse me, Mr. McCoy. If I were you, I'd take the lady home before this gets ugly."

As the officer broke into a run the McCoy could hear the stunned words 'shots fired' coming from the walkie talkie. The couple looked at each other quizzically.

"Let's get you home."

"Jack, you're the District Attorney,"she protested. "Shouldn't you stay?"

"No. This is a police matter and the best thing we can do is let them do their job," he said firmly as he guided her towards the cab stand at the bottom of the bridge. "Besides, this pregnancy is risky enough without having you anywhere near a riot."

"A riot," she repeated as he opened the door for her. "Jack, if I hadn't had another bout of morning sickness this morning, I'd have _been_ at that rally. You know I have strong feelings about immigration reform."

"You're not serious," he said before giving the cabby the address of the loft. "Brooke, I believe free speech, but you just found out you're pregnant. Why-"

"How very James Madison of you to support my first amendment right to assemble," she remarked as McCoy got into the cab beside her. "How very Randall Terry of you to think can't exercise it because I'm with child."

"I didn't say I was going to bound and gag you to keep you from going to the rally," McCoy said as he caught the knowing smile of the Cuban cabby in the mirror. "I just didn't think you'd want to take any kind of risk."

"Jack, you went to your share of rallies in college, "she reminded him, as she gave the cabby a look that made him flush with embarrassment. "You know they're usually a lot of speeches and chanting. Remember, I still am a Malinowski. My grandparents came-"

"As did my parents," McCoy countered. "I'm not going to apologize for wanting to keep you and the baby out of harm's way. Besides, you didn't go. Maybe we could save this discussion for the next rally you actually attend. I hear the group for prisoners rights is demanding more lax regulations on conjugal visits for pedophiles next weekend. Maybe you'd like to mark that on your calendar and attend."

"Wiseass," she interjected as she playfully smacked his arm.

"I hope that's not what you plan to call the baby," he countered with a grin.

"Only the baby's father. As for the baby, if it's a boy maybe Jackson Jacob McCoy would work?"

"Jackson as in Andrew," McCoy asked as he slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"Well, we can tell my brother Andy that," she said with a chuckle. "Since I know the last thing you want to do is name your son John James, I thought this would bea logical alternative. After all, he _would_ be Jack's son."

"And if the baby's a girl?"

Brooke looked down at the engagement ring that rested above her wedding band.

"You seemed to be fond of your Grandma Mauve."

"Maybe for the middle name," McCoy said seriously. "But Mauve might be too old fashioned for these times. Besides if you're callinga boy Jackson, you have to allow me the same leeway to namea girl after her mother."

"You know, I still can't believe we have a reason to be having a conversation like this," Brooke said as she rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "I gave up any hope of being a mother after I thought Sam had died and I lost our baby. And you. I know the closest you thought you'd get to fatherhood again was being a grandparent when Becky finds the right guy to settle down with."

"Life is a funny old dog, isn't it," he replied with a smile. "I expected to get a lecture on acting my age from my daughter when I called to tell her the news. Instead, she asks if I think you'd mind if she was with us when you give birth. Who'd of thought?"

Brooke nodded as the cab slowed to stop.

While McCoy paid the driver, Brooke's thoughts drifted to the stunned silence that had followed when she had informed her only sibling of the unexpected news.

After what seemed like an eternity, Brooke had finally broken the stillness on the phone by chuckling.

"_Andy, it's okay. Not only am I not 'living in sin' anymore, but when we went up to Canada to make it legal, a priest married us. You know what _that_ means."_

"_You married Jack in the church,"_ her brother stammered. _"You wouldn't even consider marrying Sam in the church."_

"_I married Sam in_a_ church, just nota church of _your_ choice," she countered. "Good thing too, or you know what the church would say about this pregnancy."_

"McCoy."

The sound of her husband's voice jarred Brooke from her thoughts. She looked up and took his hand as she left the cab and listened to his end of a hurried cell phone conversation with Lt. Anita Van Buren.

"When are those idiots at One Police Plaza going to realize what a gem they have in that woman," he demanded as he started up the steps in front of their building.

"Sounds like bad news? What happened to Anita," Brooke asked as they walked past the doorman and towards the elevator.

"That disturbancein the park," he asked as they stepped into the empty elevator car. "Turns out a woman was shot. Van Buren's people have begun investigating, but Anita's already heard from the Chief of D's. Once the weekend to over, he'll be reassigning the case. It's not enough those clowns have effectively make the 2 7 her home until she either finds another command in another city or retires from law enforcement all together; now they won't even let her do the job they gave her."


	12. Chapter 12

McCoy listened patiently as the two men filled him in on the events leading up to the rally shooting. As he concluded, the Chief of Detectives reiterated his plan to reassign the investigation of the homicide to IAB.

"What about Lt. Van Buren," McCoy began. "I know how you gentlemen feel about her, but she and her squad caught the case. I see no reason to waste valuable time by reassigning the case."

"Listen Jack, I know you're still getting your feet wet with this DA appointment. I can assure you IAB will do a thorough investigation of the shooting. If one of our people is at fault, they'll be held accountable. Although, I'd like to think I can count on you to help out the boys in blue, if –"

"This is a murder investigation," McCoy snapped irritably. "Whether that woman was shot by a bystander or a police officer, my office intends to seek justice for the victim. That's why I've appointed Josh Latham to oversee this investigation for my office. I expect your full cooperation. I also expect Van Buren's investigation to continue, without any disruption that will waste time that could be spent finding the shooter."

"Pretty demanding for a place holder," retorted the Deputy Chief.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on McCoy. Everybody knows this is a temporary appointment," the Chief of 'D''s replied.

"Really? Well, until you hear otherwise, Van Buren is on this case and I will decide how the shooter ischanged based on the evidence and not whether the shooter is a member of the NYPD," McCoy shot back with dangerous coolness. "I'm sure you both can find your way out."

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McCoy could still hear the juvenile phrase ringing in his hear when his dinner companion slide into the booth beside him. 

"Jack? When I got your call, you sounded about the way you look," Anita Van Buren said after ordered a glass of chardonnay. "I assume this as something to do with your meeting with the boys from One Police Plaza?"

"I don't know how you do it, Anita," McCoy said as he handed his companion a menu, before taking another sip of his scotch. "I spend ten minutes with those clowns and I want to throw a punch. You spend almost twenty years dealing with them and you can still call them 'sir' with a straight face."

"Practice," she said smugly as the waitress set a glass of wine in front of her. "Lots of practice in the bathroom mirror at the precinct before I go up town for a meeting."

McCoy gave the Lieutenant a savvy grin, before the waitressbegan takingtheir dinner order. He watched the woman he had known for almost fourteen years, as she ordered her meal. It was a rarity for the two of them to have a moment alone, much less an entire meal together. Although Van Buren was a happily married woman andMcCoy himself wasa newlywed with a baby on the way he couldn't help but wonder if he'd met this classy woman in another time, under different curcumstances, what the outcome would have been.

"Jack," Van Buren said with quiet amusement. "Do you know what you want?"

Flushing slightly, McCoy turned his attention to the young woman in the waitress uniform. Once he completed his order, he smiled shyly at Van Buren.

"I thought I did," he responded as he smile deepened.

As the pair went through their salad and main course, McCoy described the high points of his meeting with the Deputy Chief and the Chief of D's, tactfully omitting the pairs cutting remarks about Van Buren.

"I swear Anita, I never in a million years thought I'd accept the job I have now," McCoy admitted soberly. "But after listening to that crap... I don't know…maybe it's reverse psychology."

"Or fight or flee reaction? Someone takes a shot at you, the adrenaline gets going, even if the shot is figurative. You never have been one to run from a fight, Jack."

McCoy nodded as he met her knowing gaze.

"Maybe. I just know in less than twenty four hours I did a 180," McCoy admitted uneasily. "I want to run when this term is up. The idea of quietly fading into the sunset…"

"Not so appealing," Van Buren asked as she set her glass down. "You know Jack, I'll admit I'm flattered. Flattered and more than a little surprised I'm the one you're sharing this with." 

"Brooke is still in Islip," McCoy explained as he shifted uneasily. "She had a late appointment with her OB."

"Again? Everything all right with the baby," Van Buren interjected, immediately concerned.

"Just taking more tests," McCoy responded. "So far, nothing to worry about. Then she had to head back to the office to wrap up some paperwork for a plea bargain she negotiated this afternoon. Anita, I already told her I was ready to retire. I can't just … I know what my priorities need to be…"

"Jack, do you honestly think you're wife would be surprised that you're having second thoughts," Van Buren asked as she laid her hand on top of his.

"When I was Brooke's age I lived and breathed the job," McCoy said intensely. "You know howwhat I was likewhen we first started working together. She just got a promotion. I know how completely unfair it would be to expect her to give that up."

Van Buren shook her head as she licked her lips. 

"There _is_ such a thing as day care Jack. I did it. I bet you knowattorney's that either have nannies or send their kids to play groups." 

"Yes," he said with a reluctant sigh, "and if this were a normal pregnancy I'd be willing to consider those options. But you and I both know if this baby makes it to term, there's a good chance it will have special needs." 

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"What do you mean 'if' the baby makes it to term," Jake Cohen demanded as he looked sharply at his best friend. 

"Come on Jake. I'm 47. I've had one miscarriage already," Brooke McCoy responded frankly, while she placed a plastic straw intotheglass ofmilk sitting in front of her. "It's a miracle I'm even pregnant. It would be foolish to assume Jack and I will get a free pass that entitles us to a second miracle." 

Cohen shook his head as he sipped at his martini.

"You're scared shitless.Just likeyou were the first time, aren't you?"

"No," she shot back smugly before taking a long pull from her straw. 

"Right."

Refusing to meet her friend's inquiring gaze, Brooke stared at the assortment of liquor bottles that lined the counter behind the bar. She remembered the way she felt the first time she thought she was going to be a mother. The excitement, the pure joy she felt knowing she was carrying a child inside her that was part of a man she loved with all her heart. Aman she knew who would love and adore their child. She also remembered the concern…the nagging apprehension in the back of her mind…knowing she was several years beyond thestandard age for child bearing. 

That was more than seven years earlier. She knew she didn't have the energy she had seven years ago. Trips to the gym were fewer and harder to complete. She slept later on the weekends, and more and more, she found herself thinking about when the time would come for her to consider her own retirement.

She couldn't believe her good fortune when she fell in love with Jack McCoy.The factthat he not only loved her with equal ardor,but was ready and anxious to start a life with her still amazed her. She knew he was at a point in his life wheremost men assume their child raising yearswere behind them. 

"Come on Brooke, you know I'm right. Just admit, so we can talk about it."

"You're wrong, Jake. It's not like the first time," she said softly, as she turned to face him. "I'm more scared this time than I've ever been, of anything in my life."


	13. Chapter 13

By the time she set her keys and purse on the coffee table, it was only a few hours before midnight. McCoylay with his head propped up against the headboard. The latest Grisham novel lay discarded in a small pile beside McCoy's side of the bed.The reading material he'd chosen for the night was a larger, more colorfully illustrated book that he looked up from as his wife approched him.

"Hi stranger, get everything caught up at the office," he asked as he set his reading glasses on the night table before he leaned forward to offer Brooke a kiss.

"For the most part," Brooke said as she slipped off her shoes and curled up in the space beside him. "How did your meeting with the blue brass go?"

"Let's just say I'm glad Van Buren and her detectives are continuing their own investigation," he said with a sigh as he briefly thought about his meeting with the Chief of D's and his undelink.

Brooke curiously picked up the book that lay beside her husband, glimpsing the name of the author she started to chuckle, as she began leafing through the books colorful pages.

"So can she write as well as sing?"

"I never thought she sang that well, but at least everyone's got their clothes on in this book."

"Funny what motherhood does to some women," Brooke mused as she grinned at McCoy. "From '_Like a Virgin'_ to _The English Roses. _Guess I should give the 'Material Girl' her due. But tell me, Jack, how exactly did you know about her other 'literary' works? I don't recall seeing Madonna's first book..or should I say photo shoot … in any of the boxes of books we've opened."

"I had the misfortune of stumbling on it when I asked the clerk where I could find books by Madonna," McCoy snorted with a smirk. "It's been a few decades since I've read a children's book. When I heard Madonna was writing them, I thought I'd be a responsible parent and be proactive by doing some research. I guess the clerk figured someone my age would be looking for her smut book and not her children's stories, so the he sent me over to the autobiography section where I found _Sex _instead."

Brooke laughed at the rolling eyes that accompanied McCoy's scowl as he made his last remark. She raised her eyebrows and ran a hand through the tousled grey mane.

"Did you see anything that you hadn't seen before," she asked suggestively.

"Nothing I hadn't seen before," he admitted more laughter. "Just things I hadn't seen _that way_, before. From what I saw, I'd have to conclude the woman must be double jointed."

"Maybe we better stick with Margaret Wise and Shel Siverstein selections, just to be safe," Brooke suggested as she started to get up .

"Silverstein," McCoy said with a nod. "Becky still can recite his poems. But Wise's books were the real hit in our house. I must have read _Goodnight Moon_ more times than I've read a case file when Becky was small."

"Lindsay's a big fan, too," Brooke replied from the bathroom before turning on a facet.

"We'll have to get a copy for the baby the next time one of us goes to Strand's," McCoy called back.

While his wife got ready for bed McCoy thought about his conversation with Van Buren. He knew his friend had been right when she said he needed to share his concerns about the future with Brooke. As he'd walked home earlier that night, McCoy decided he'd lay his cards on the table as soon as he saw his wife.

Then he'd stopped at Strand's.

After spending more than an hour in the children's section of the bookstore, McCoy found his excitement at having a child to dote on overriding his concerns about his career. By the time he got home, McCoy was more unsure than ever as to what he wanted professionally and personally.

He glanced back down at the book he held and sighed as he set it on the night table.

"Something wrong, Jack?"

McCoy thought a moment before looking up and giving her a wiry half smile.

"Liz Olivett would say I'm still processing the fact were going to be parents. I'd say it's natural, wouldn't you?"

Brooke nodded in agreement as she climbed into bed and turned off the light on her side.

"Natural would be the word," she said as she thought about the apprehensions she had raised with Cohen, just a few hours before. Turning on her side to face McCoy; she ran a hand through her hair before continuing. "You know, the first time I was pregnant I worried myself sick about what could happen…birth defects, a premature birth, not being able to handle raising a child on my own…"

"This time is different, Brooke."

"Yeah,"she said as she snuggled closer to him. "It is."

"This time you have me to lean on," he said as he smiled down at her. "This time you have me to taking turns with you reading _'Goodnight Moon'_ when the baby comes."

_**If**__ the baby comes_, she thought as she bit back the words. 

"Hey, now I'm wondering if you're the one with something on her mind," McCoy said when her smile faltered. 

Not wanting to dampen her husband's optimism, she ran a hand over his cheek and shook her head.

"Nothing's on my mind but sleep," she said pointing at the clock beside the bed and telling herself that if her husband could be so certain about the future she should follow suit and let nature take it course.


	14. Chapter 14

"_Oh God no," she moaned as she stared down at dark red blotch on the sheet that was slowly growing larger._

_Brooke watched as Cohen dashed out of the emergency room cubicle. She could hear him shouting for help as she began to lose consciousness…_

As she tossed and turned, her mind brought flashes of her memories ofthe miscarriage to the surface: Being in Judge Ellis's chamber with Cohen, the judge, and defense attorney Stan Webber when she started to feel dizzy… the look of horror on Ellis's face as he noticed the thin trial of blood running down her leg, just before a stunned Stan Webber reached for the prosecutor as she lost consciousness…

"…_it was the only way to stop the bleeding," Cohen was saying as he held her close. "I swear Brooke, they did everything they could…"_

"_But how…why," she gasped through sobs that were even more distraught than at her husband's burial. "Why Jake? First Sam and now…my baby…Oh God Sam _and_ the baby? Why?… we could have…Oh God, we could have been a family if they'd just…if they'd just..why didn't they just let me go? I could have been with Sam and our baby, if they'd just let me go.._

Suddenly she could hear the far away sound of McCoy's voice telling her it was all right, telling her to wake up…

"It's _not_ all right," she said wildly, as she unconsciously fought the hands that on her shoulders. "Nothing's right…my baby's not all right…my baby…"

McCoy ignored the blowsas held her tightly while he rocked her back and forth.

"Brooke, please open your eyes," he begged as his tone became increasingly more alarmed. "The baby's fine…open your eyes and you'll see the baby's fine."

When his first wife had been pregnant with Becky, McCoy had seen her through bouts of mourning sickness, bizarre food cravings, and her own period of over protectiveness towards their daughter. But the first Mrs. McCoy had never suffered such vivid dreams during her pregnancy. All the three a.m. trips to _Seven-Eleven _for corn dogs and hot fudge sauce than he'd weathered before his first child was born seemed inconsequencial as McCoy tried to wake his current wife from what seemed to be an unconscious emotional roller coaster ride.

Out of desperation, McCoy reached over and grabbed a half empty glass of water off the night table as he laid Brooke back down on the bed. When a few dabbles of water on her face didn't bring her back to him, he anxiously emptied the glass just below her forehead.

McCoy released her from his embrace, as her flailing hands reached towards her face. As her eyes opened her hysterical cries seized and she looked at him with alarm and confusion.

"What…how did I get wet," she asked as she looked at the front of her nightgown, then back at her husband. "What happened?"

"You were dreaming again," he said as he embraced her. "They're getting worse, Brooke. You were upset about the baby. Do you remember any of it this time?"

Brooke hugged him tighter and closed her eyes. The nightmares had started a day or two after they'd had their discussion about children's books and the baby. It had been nearly two weeks since the vivid dreams had begun…some she remembered and some vanished completely after once she'd been awakened.She still couldn't figure out what was triggering them.

"God Jack. I'm sorry I scared you," she said as she ran a hand over his face. "You're white as a sheet."

"I'm fine. Right now, let's concentrate on you. The last time you saw the doctor, you told me the test results looked good. As something changed since then?"

"No, nothing's changed."

"Brooke, this time you were frantic about the baby. It sounded like something happened. You were sure something had happened to the baby. What do you remember?"

Brooke took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could feel her heart still racing, as she tried to focus on the dream…

"Oh God," she said as a few bits and pieces whipped through her mind, "did you hear me ask for Jake?"

"Yeah. You were calling out for him when I woke up. Does that mean something to you?"

Brooke nodded before she started to get out of the bed. After assuring McCoy she'd be right back, she stepped into the bathroom and pulled a fresh night gown from the walk in closet.

She couldn't believe the dreams had started again. So many years had passed since the miscarriage. She'd had a few of them when Sam Prescott turned up alive. Then they abruptly stopped after the charges were dropped against Prescott in the murder of Vladimir Valenski. Why they'd started again, she could only guess.

As she slipped the damp gown off, her husband tapped on the door before entering.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm okay. Jack, it wasn't our baby I thought was in trouble," she began as she smoothed the dry nightgown into place. "Jake was with me when I lost my first baby…I must be dreaming about the miscarriage."

"Well, I suppose it makes sense," he said as he followed her towards the kitchen. "A new pregnancy is bound to bring up memories of your first one."

"Hey, you don't have to stay up with me," she said as she began to make a pot of tea. "I'll be fine, I just need to clear my head and then I'll come back to bed. You have enough on your mind with court in the morning. You need to be fresh for when you testify."

"I can handle whatever dirt Rodchecko and his lawyer want to throw at me," McCoy said defiantly as he set two teacups on the counter.

_Or more accurately the dirt Josh Latham and his cronies want to see thrown,_ McCoy thought his mind turned to the testimony he was scheduled to give in the case of the accused shooter from the Central Park immigration rally.

"I know you lost the baby not too long after Sam went into witness protection," McCoy continued. "If you want to tell me more, I'd like to hear it. If you talk about it, you might stop dreaming about it."

"Not much to tell," she said after a moment. "One minute I was arguing a motion, the next I was in Suffolk Memorial. It was almost into the second trimester. The doctor said the miscarriage was not all together unexpected. The stress of Sam's death, as well as the normal risk factors in a pregnancy when the mother is over thrity five...To say I didn't handle losing the baby well would be an understatement.. ," she continued with a grimance."You've heard Jake and I talk about how I went off the deep end. I fell into the bottle and started sleeping via sedatives I usually washed down with a nightcap. Then Clint got added to the mix about six months after I lost the baby. Not exactly a high point in the life and times of Brooke Malinowski."

McCoy nodded as he began filling the teacups.

"Not an easy time for you," he said hoping to prompt a response.

"Or for Clint," she said as she smiled faintly at the tactic. "Starting a divorce himself….anyway… it didn't last long. One night I got carried away and …well… I won't bore either of us with the details. Jake told you I swallowed some pills one night and ended up back in the hospital. The bottom line was, if I wanted to go back to work, I had to agree to therapy. Eventually, my therapist helped me to see that…"

McCoy waited as Brooke swallowed some of the tea. He could see her begin to withdraw. Her eyes lowered as her expression became distant and suprisingly guarded.

"What did the therapist help you to see?"

Brooke looked back at her husband and seemed to consider her response. 

"That my grief over Sam was just a part of my problem. That what was really driving my destructive behavior was the baby. My guilt, my fears… I couldn't let go of the idea the baby was without me..that the baby was alone," she said with a sigh.

"Oh Brooke," he whispered as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. 

"The thing is, I got through it holding on to something Dr. Bowen said," she continued, as her voice began to shake. "He reminded me the baby _wasn't_ alone… the baby had its father with him …"

McCoy's pulled her to him, as a sense of foreboding fell over him.

"And when Sam came home?"

"Yeah," she replied hoarsely. "Shot_ that_ theory right out of the water, huh? It's probably one of the reasons I damn near knocked his teeth out the first night he was home. I didn't realize that then but…now that I have another baby growing inside me... Jack, I can't help but think about the baby I lost and how alone my baby is..quot;

"I know, I know," he said softly as he stroked her hair and the sobs began again. 

Part of him wanted to say something profound…something comforting like… "Your baby's not alone, he's with God" or "Your baby knows you love him", but the words seemed hollow and insincere. Even the idea of assuring her that their child would always be safe and would never be without its parents seemed unrealistic at best, given his own age and the number of people that were still walking around wishing Jack McCoy wasn't.

At that moment, all McCoy could do was hold his wife and let her know he was there now to try to take away some of her sorrow. At that moment, the last thing on his mind was Josh Latham or some trigger happy cop.

At that moment, remaining District Attorney next term was no longer a consideration.

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"It's not a consideration," McCoy told his former assistant, as he knotted the familiar grey and burgundy striped tie. "If I don't testify against Latham, the public will be left with the impression this office is not only anti-cop; they'll be left with the impression we have something to hide. Besides, Mike and I went over my testimony before I left last night."

"I know, I could hear you from my desk," Connie Rubirosa reluctantly admitted. "I just think…"

"Connie, are you saying you don't think I know how to handle myself in front of a jury," he said with an amused scowl, as he reached for the grey suit jacket resting on his chair back. 

"Of course not," she said as her face grew red. 

Rubirosa knew from her time as McCoy's assistant that the DA was more comfortable in a courtroom than most people were in their own living room. She knew it wasn't the courtroom where McCoy lacked skill; it was in the political arena.

Although she had watched McCoy grow more confident as his time as DA continued, she knew the defendant's lawyer would try to use McCoy's cross examination to paint her client as a victim of an incompetent and vengeful politician. Rubirosa was also sure Latham and company would do whatever they could to make McCoy look weak to the voters.

It was common knowledge in the DA's office that it was Josh Latham who had always had political ambitions, not Jack McCoy. When Lathem was passed up for the DA slot, many in the office assumed he would challenge McCoy as soon as the next election rolled around for the position of District Attorney. Discrediting McCoy now would make it all the more easier to Latham to gain the support of the party to oust McCoy when election time arrived.

"Besides, all Latham and his attorney can do is coach from the sidelines," he assured her. "It's Rodchenko that's on trial and Melissa Sanders discrediting me isn't going to change the evidence. Her client will still be guilty of murder whether or not she crucifies me on the stand."

Rubirosa shook her head, in dismay. She was used to the older man's tough exterior, but his indifferent attitude regarding his own future alarmed her. Not just because she had come to like and respect the man that had played devil's advocate with such relish with her when she joined the Major Felonies division, a short year before. The idea of working for someone like Josh Latham if McCoy lost the next election, was something the young attorney savored as much as milk months beyond its expiration date.

"You know, you could at least _pretend_ to care about what this could do to your career," Rubrirosa said under the breath as McCoy moved towards the door.

"Excuse me," he said as he swung around to see the ADA's flustered expression.

"Jack, I… I was out of line," she stammered, knowing her remark crossed a line, yet also wanting to snap McCoy out of whatever had suddenly made him so cerebral about the risk he was taking. "I …I just don't want to see you cut your nose to spite your face. After all the flack you've already taken over prosecuting a cop for the death of a demonstrator..."

"Listen Connie, even if you were right, I'd still have to testify. I've been subpoenaed. It's not like I have a choice. Besides," he said with wistfulness that left the other attorney dismayed. "Believe it or not there are things that are more important than what happens in this office."

Rubrirosa stared at McCoy's back in stunned silence as he headed out the door and towards the elevator. After a brief moment of indecision, she slipped her cell phone out of her pocket and prayed Mike Cutter hadn't turned his Blackberry off for court yet.


	15. Chapter 15

As McCoy walked towards Centre Street his thoughts were not on the guilt or innocence of auxilliary officer Rodchenko or the opportunistic former ADA Josh Latheam. His mind was on his pregnant wife and his unborn child…and on the sibling his child never would have the chance to know.

"Jake Cohen. Jack McCoy calling," he said holding his cellphone to his hear.

While he waited for the Suffolk county ADA to take his call, McCoy marveled at the communication device in his hand. Although he'd tried to stick to a traditional land line for as long as he could, McCoy had to admit the cellphone had changed forever the way people communicated with one another. He wondered what the inventors would come up with by the time his new son or daughter was old enough to be pestering Brooke or himself for access to the latest communications device.

"Hey, Malin…excuse me… I mean _McCoy_," ADA Jake Cohen said with a grin, "hang on. I've got your husband on line two."

"Really," Brooke asked from the doorway of Cohen's office. 

Returning to her seat in front of his desk, the EADA listened curiously to Cohen's end of the conversation. Brooke glanced at her watch. She knew McCoy was scheduled to testify that morning in the case against the auxiliary NYPD officer who was accused of shooting an unarmed protester in Central Park a few weeks earlier. 

In her mind, she went through the major case roster for her office, trying to recall a case her husband would need to consult with Jake Cohen on. 

"Hey Jack," Cohen said as he leaned back in his chair. "I was just telling your lovely bride… Actually, she's sitting right here," Cohen continued with equal casualness, although the slight flicker in his eyes and a return to a more formal posture gave him away with Brooke.

Brooke listened to a series of 'huh huh's', 'sure did's', and 'I will's' for the next few minutes before Cohen handed her the receiver.

"I figured you'd be getting sworn in by now," Brooke said as she took the receiver.

"I'm standing in front of the metal detector now," McCoy responded. "Have you had your 10:15 meeting with Michael yet?"

"It's only 10:25," she said with amusement. "You know our 10:15 meetings don't start until 10:35. Why?"

"When you go in to see Michael could you remind him I need to talk to him this afternoon about revisting our arrangement with regards to venue swaps between the major crimes families?"

"I'll remind him, but I think Judge Murray settled that when you and I were in court together," she said suspisiously as she glanced at Cohen who was reaching for his suit jacket. "Don't tell me that's the story you want to stick with, counselor?"

"Story?"

"For calling one of my ADA's out of the blue. The one who happens to be my best friend. Listen, I know you were worried about me last night but-"

"Sorry love, my turn for the metal detector," McCoy said hurriedly.

"Jack, wait! Don't you dare hang up."

"I'm here."

Torn between getting to the bottom of the mystery phone call and concern over the hit her husband could take on the stand, she waited a beat, finally deciding wifely concern triumphed morbid curiosity.

"You remember to focus on nailing a murderer in there. You have months to worry about me and the baby."

"I have the rest of my life to worry about you and the baby," he said firmly.

"Agreed. Now go nail a killer and kick Josh Latham's ass, when you get the chance," she said as she replaced the receiver in it's candle while she blocked Cohen's path from desk to door. "I don't think so and before you remind me I have a meeting, let me remind_ you_, Michael's still in with the mayor. I also know _you're_ next meeting isn't until 11:00, so spill it."

"I don't know what-,"Cohen began with mock indignation.

"Spare me. I know Jack is worried about these nightmares I've been having about the miscarriage, Jake. It doesn't surprise me he wanted to talk to you about them, since you were my rock back then. What I can't figure out is what he asked you to do. I heard enough 'I will's' on your end to know he _did_ ask you to do something. There were too many of them for just 'I will look out for her'."

"It's not like there's a conspiracy here, Brooke," Cohen said with a sigh, before sitting back down. "He wants to talk again about the specifics. He knew I could speak freely with you sitting across from me."

"Then he can ask me. I mean I was _there."_

Cohen sighed again. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable being inadvertently being placed in the middle of his best friend and her husband. He'd known Jack McCoy was the right man for Brooke even before she had figured it out. Cohen was sure anything McCoy had in mind was with Brooke's best interwst at heart. Besides, he knew his connection to Brooke was strong enough to weather any momentary tension due to keeping a few well meaning secrets with her current husband.

What bothered him was how close McCoy had hit the mark.

"_Jake, I'm on my way into court, but I need to ask you about Brooke's first pregnancy," McCoy began. "You were there when she lost the baby. I need to know…did the doctor's say it would be risky for her to carry another child?"_

That was about the time Cohen had let the DA know he couldn't directly answer the question because he wasn't alone. Cohen knew it had been Sam Prescott, not Jack McCoy that had been with Brooke when she found out she was pregnant for a second time. Given that Brooke's OB/GYN was in Islip, Cohen also knew it was unlikely the DA had been with her either time she had been back for follow up testing.

That meant the only information McCoy had about the pregnancy was thru his wife.

"Sure he can _ask_ you," Cohen countered bluntly, "but he wants to know everything, Brooke. Can you honestly say you've told him everything?"

"I have never lied to Jack."

"That's not what I asked you," Cohen countered. "Listen, I know how much you want this baby, Brooke. Even if you're scared to death. Chances are you and the baby will be fine, but you know the doctors said after the damage caused by the first miscarriage, another pregnancy could be a risk to your health as well as-"

"I'm well aware of what the doctors said," Brooke snapped. "It's not like I planned this Jake."

Cohen nodded as he waited. The patient look of understanding on his face caused Brooke to look away, knowing she was taking her frustration with herself out on her friend. She knew he was right. She knew immediately after the doctor had confirmed the second pregnancy how risky it was going to be. Part of her wanted a DNC then and there; to cut her losses and spare both herself and her husband the possibility of facing the heart ache of becoming attached to a child that wouldn't make it to term.

But the fact she was pregnant at all was a miracle not lost on Brooke. The idea of terminating another pregnancy…of losing the chance to have a child with Jack McCoy… was an idea she found impossible to accept.

"We were careful," she continued. "Besides, look at us. Neither of us thought this was even possible given at our ages. I'm still not sure how it happened."

"Brooke," Cohen said with a smirk, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Let's not be naïve. We all know _how_ it happened."

"Cute," she said, unable to suppress a snicker herself, after looking at Cohen's wiry grin. "The point is, it _did_ happen and here we are. Even if I did tell Jack all about the miscarriage, he is more Catholic than he likes to think. It's not like he's going to want to abort this baby and I think my position is clear, being that I am indeed still pregnant."

"He wants to talk to me about it Brooke. If he asks, I'm not going to lie to him and tell him there aren't added risks to your health," Cohen said earnestly. "You need to talk to him._ And_, you need to talk to Sam."


	16. Chapter 16

"Your witness," Michael Cutter said as he gave his boss a fleeting look of reassurance, before sitting down at the prosecution table.

The new EADA couldn't have been more pleased with his superiors relaxed and to the point responses. He couldn't have been more relieved to see Rubirosa's last minute heads up regarding McCoy's seemly distracted manner appeared to have been for naught. Still, the younger man knew cross examination would be the real test of not only the DA's ability to keep his cool, but his credability with the jury, as well as the media.

Cutter could almost see Josh Latham and his attorney lick their chops as the attractive blonde stood.

Although Cutter felt his direct examination of the DA had served to lay a strong foundation for the legitimacy of the people's case against Rodchenko, he'd gone up against Melissa Sanders more than once before his promotion to EADA. He knew the defense attorney to be as tough and driven as her mother, the well known defense attorney Sally Bell().

McCoy answered the questions directly and without elaboration. He knew the drill. Just answer the question as simply as possible. Keep your answer short and to the point.

As he answered her increasingly hostile questions, McCoy couldn't help but think about how much the woman reminded him of her mother. Strong, aggressive, and focused on the objective at hand. Sally may not have been the woman he wanted to spend his life with, but she was one of a handful of lawyers McCoy would have been happy to have at his side if he were the one sitting at the defense table. 

He found himself ready to add Melissa Sanders to that list, even though at the moment, he found her to be a formidable advisory.

"While you were a prosecutor, isn't it true you had to be reined in by your superiors on more than one occasion?"

Inwardly, he shook his head at the error; asking him such an open ended question was a move Sanders would immediately regret.

"I had to be reined in when I was prosecuting a bunch of Russian gangsters who killed a prosecutor and almost blew up a police station," he offered, keeping his tone matter fact and making sure to make eye contact with several of the jurors.

McCoy continued giving offensive responses to the next several questions; deliberately throwing the younger woman's rhythm off. Sander's frustration with his responses grew more evident.

While Sanders waited for Judge Roth to rule on a motion, McCoy stole a glance at Latham. The man was visibly unhappy with the turn McCoy's testimony had taken.

_Better forget about that nomination for my job and start thinking about filing for unemployment_, McCoy thought smugly, as he suppressed a cocky smile. _Maybe being a politician isn't as far from being a prosecutor as I thought it was… At least, maybe it doesn't have to be; at least not for this place maker…_

"…you're out of control," said an exasperated Sanders. "Isn't that the bottom line on you, Mr. McCoy?"

"The bottom line, Ms. Sanders," McCoy said; going in for the kill. "Where there's a law, I'll enforce it; where there's a crime I'll prosecute it, and where there's a victim I'll speak for that victim. That's my bottom line."

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"He sure doesn't sound like a man that's ready to stay at home and read _Goodnight Moon_," Brooke said to herself as she leaned back in the chair behind her desk.

The moment the executive board meeting ended, Brooke had returned to her office and turned the small portable TV to the noon time news, as she placed a take out order over the phone. After what seemed like an endless barage of commercials ended the report turned to the scene in front of the Manhattan criminal courts building.

Brooke recognized the dashing figure in grey that was descending from the courthouse steps as her husband. She watched with interest as the blonde in the Oscar de la Renta suit dashed to be the first one to get a mike in the new DA's face.

"Mr. McCoy," the woman enthusiastically called out. "When you said your bottom line was to enforce the law, prosecute criminals, and speak for the victims of this county, did you mean you plan to seek election to the office District Attorney of New York county, when this term ends?"

"Hey there darlin' the delivery guy was-"

"Hush," she snapped, barely giving her ex-husband a glance as she waved towards the seat in front of her.

Sam Prescott turned to see what had so completely captured his former wife's attention. Nodding as he saw McCoy on the screen, Prescott set the brown paper bag on the desk, before turning the chair to face the TV.

Prescott alternated between listening to the set and glancing to see how Brooke was reacting to her husband's responses.

"Can you be more specific? Do you or do you not plan to run in the next election?"

"Right now, I plan to do what I said I'd do in the courtroom this morning," McCoy said with diplomacy at that at once awed and infuriated his wife. "Until the voters of this county make their feelings known, anything else is speculation."

"You realize your testimony has virtually eliminated former ADA Joshua Latham from the running? That would leave you almost an uncontested path to victory if you chose to run for the nomination."

Brooke could tell by the way he held his head up ever so slightly, as well as by the cocky whisper of a smile that showed through his impatient scowl, her husband was well aware of that fact. 

"Son of a bitch," she whispered, knowing his answer before a sound was uttered by him.

"I've been a prosecutor more than twenty five years. I don't know how to do anything but uphold the law. All I can say is that I'm not a politician," McCoy replied indifferently. "If the people of this county can accept that; if they're willing to accept the fact I won't play politics to let a murderer like Officer Rodchenko go unpunished, anything is possible."

"Oh just say it," she said with disgust at McCoy's sudden gamesmanship, as she hit the power button on the remote and picked up the bag on her desk.

Prescott returned his chair to its original position and looked curiously at Brooke. 

Brooke pulled the receipt out of the bag and reached into her desk drawer.

"Brooke, I've got it. I was at the register at The Barrister payin' my bill, when I heard Bennie take your order. By the way," Prescott added with a knowing chuckle." You really sure soup is such a good idea? I recall the last time you were havin' soup at The Barrister the results weren't exactly pretty."

"That was chowder. This is vegetable soup. Much safer,"she explained. "Since when did a ruthless Fed have time to deliver soup when there are criminals to prosecute?"

When I was at the courthouse this mornin' Jake mentioned you wanted to talk to me, so I figured I'd bring the order over and see what it is I can do for you."

"What? Are you serious," she sputtered, still trying to process several pieces of information that had been thrown at her in the last few minutes. "You were…Jake told you… Sam, what in the world are you even _doing_ in Islip on a Wednesday afternoon? Aren't you assigned to the southern district?"

"Why darlin' is that you're way of sayin' you're not happy to see me," he asked with amusement.

"You know I'm always happy to see you," she said, making a conscious effort to ease her tone. "It's my way of saying thanks for the soup, but why are you in town?"

"You know the western district has been shorthanded since Waters took early retirement," he reminded her. "I'm just helpin' out until they hire his replacement. Now, you wanna tell me what that was about just now? Sounded to me like old Jack held his own with the press just fine. Why do you seem less than pleased about it?"

Brooke bought herself time by focusing on opening the container of soup without making a mess on the desk top. At this point she wasn't sure who she wanted to strangle first: Cohen for sicking her ex-husband on her or her current husband for not knowing himself well enough to realize what he really wanted…what he'd always want…as long as he had breath.

"Hormones," she said as she stirred the soup. "You know what they say about pregnant women…one minute pitching a fit, the next in tears. How about you? How's married life treating you?"

The look on Prescott's face told her he was having none of it. He knew Brooke would rather die than admit something like hormones was affecting her emotional state in any way. He also knew, the days of it being his place to point that out, had ended long ago.

"Danielle and I couldn't be happier. Thank you for askin'," he primly, as he stood. "How's that little one of yours doin?"

"So far, so good," she said as she watched him start towards the door. "Sam, I-"

"Listen, you have things to do and so do I. Obviously Jake was wrong. You don't have anything to say to me. I better get back to work."

"Sam, wait."

Brooke set the soup aside and met him at the door. The look of hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. Immediately regretting her behavior, she reached for his hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, while she fought a real hormonal surge of emotion that caused her eyes to tear up. "Look, I don't want to dump …We've both started new lives and it doesn't seem fair to…"

"Honey, you don't have anything to be sorry for. You don't have to explain anything to me. You have a new husband. He's the man you should be sharin' your feelin's with, not me. I know that. You'd think Jake would know that, too."

"Oh God Sam… it's not that I don't want to share my feelings with you," she began in frustration. 

_Damn Cohen for setting this up …like I can do this here during a working lunch…Sure Jake, _she thought miserably. _Like I can just say 'Hi Sam! How are things doing? Oh, by the way, did you know the real reason I couldn't even look at you when you came back was because I not only blamed you for our baby dying, I blamed you for _not_ dying and leaving our baby all alone…_

_**()Just a little aside from me because the actress that played Sanders reminded me a lot of the actress that played McCoy's former lover and courtroom advisary Sally Bell several years before. Figured enough time as passed that this young lady could, indeed, be Bells' daughter**.()_


	17. Chapter 17

McCoy tossed his tie on the rack and reached for his jeans, just as the phone on his desk began ringing. While unbuttoning a second button on his blue dress shirt, he moved swiftly to grab the receiver and caught a glimpse of his reflection from the glass in the picture frame on the desk.

McCoy unconsciously smiled, noting the self-assured…almost arrogant… expression on his face. An expression he couldn't remember seeing since in accepted the post of district attorney.

"McCoy."

As he listened to the mayor praise him for the way he handled himself on the stand that afternoon, McCoy remained polite, but strangely disinterested. He knew his personal satisfaction didn't come from scoring points with the mayor. It came from giving those that thought he was just some temporary 'place holder' that would go along or get along at the first sign of trouble the invisible finger. It also came from the adrenaline rush that resulted from being inside a courtroom again.

Finally, it came from the realization that his career wasn't on its last leg…it was actually just beginning.

"_The bottom line, Ms. Sanders is where there's a law, I'll enforce it; where there's a crime I'll prosecute it, and where there's a victim I'll speak for that victim. That's my bottom line."_

Even though he'd been well prepped by both Rubirosa and Cutter, until the moment came, McCoy had no idea he'd speak those words. He still wasn't quite sure where they had come from. But, the words were heart felt.

They were also words that would play like a symphony to the voters of New York county.

There was no denying it, not anymore. No more telling himself he wasn't political or not to put the horse before the cart. Jack McCoy was the District Attorney for New York County and he wanted to remain the District Attorney for New York County.

_That_ was McCoy's_ real_ bottom line.

"…yes. Thank you for calling," he said before pressing the next blinking light in line. "Jack McCoy."

The moment he heard his wife's voice, McCoy knew _she_ knew what his bottom line was, as well.

"I saw the twelve o'clock news," she said briskly. "You handled yourself like a pro, Jack. I assume you'll be going out with Cutter and company for a victory drink?"

"Mikedid invite me to join Connie and himself at Clancy's, but I wanted to talk to you. I thought maybe we could-"

"You should go, Jack. I'll be tied up in Islip for a few hours. Go celebrate."

McCoy could hear the tightness in her voice. He suspected he knew the source of the tension and debated on whether to confront her then or to wait until they were face to face.

"It won't be much of a celebration without you."

"I'm sure you'll manage," she replied, finding his usual charm, unusually annoying. "Besides, I wouldn't be tied up here if it wasn't for you. Right now I'm sitting in The Barrister waiting for my ex-husband. The next time you think you know what's best for me, why don't you clear it with_ me,_ instead of Jake?"

McCoy knew he'd been taking a chance when he called his wife's best friend and enlisted his help. After seeing his wife through another night of increasingly vivid nightmares, McCoy was convinced Brooke would be more relaxed and less likely to have her subconscious take control of her, if she cleared the air with her former husband. He also knew his wife would fight discussing her miscarriage with Sam Prescott tooth and nail, unless she was put in a position where she couldn't avoid having the conversation.

"I because I didn't think you'd listen," he answered bluntly.

"I'd have listened about as much as you did when I told you that you wanted to run for another term as DA," she countered, barely keeping control of her tempter.

"Are you saying-"

"Good bye. That's what I'm saying. Sam just got here. Have a shot of Dewar's for me and the baby."

Brooke busied herself with returning her cell phone to her purse as Sam Prescott crossed the crowded bar to join her. Knowing the her avoidance strategywell, he stood beside her and patiently waited for her to look up.

"What?"

"You tell me," Prescott countered, shaking his head as the bartender moved towards them. "Listen Brooke. We've known each too long… been through too much together… for this. What do you say we get out of this zoo and find a quiet place to talk about whatever it is that's on your mind?"

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As they walked down the tree lined streets of downtown Islip, Brooke thought about the many times she and Sam Prescott had walked those same streets during their courtship. The flirtations, the heated debates, the long walk to her car the night of their first date all ran through her thoughts as if if she were flipped through a photo album.

Looking up at the wiry southerner, she couldn't help but smile as one set of fingers fiddled with the silver pocket watch that hung of a chain on his vest, as the other set absentmindedly scratched his ear.

"You're sure you don't want to go into Baxter's and get a drink," she asked.

"Naw, wouldn't want to set a bad example for the little one," he said with a smile, as took her hand.

"'Sides, as much as you favor tequila, I still remember what you _really_ want when you're like this."

"Like what," she said suspiciously as he led her around the corner.

"Like when you have something to say that you think is going to hurt someone you care about," he said as he looked her dead in the eyes. "Jake wouldn't go into details, but he did say you were having nightmares. If this is about when I left, you know you have every right to rail me as often as you need to. 'Specially if it's affecting you again."

"I knew I was in trouble when you called me 'Brooke' back at the Barrister," she said with a sigh. "You never call me Brooke unless …"

Brooke paused as Prescott opened the door to the shop in front of them. She looked up with a mixture of pleasure and surprise before walking into the shop with the marquee that read_: Farrell's Home Made Ice Creme._

Prescott waited until the waitress had brought each of them a jumbo banana split – one with and one without nuts- before giving his former wife the same penetrating gaze he would give a witness on the brink of spilling their guts.

"I haven't had one of these in years, "she said after she ran her tongue leisurely over the spoon filled with ice creme. "I'd forgotten Farrell's was even still in business."

"Really now," he responded with genuine surprise. "Never took old Jack down here on a Saturday afternoon, when you got one of your cravin's?"

Brooke shook her head as she took another bite.

"I just charm him into go out and bring me back a carton of _Haagen-Dazs_ raspberry- vanilla-"

"sorbet," they said in unison.

"What about you," Brooke asked as she looked up from her dish. "Now that you own the house, you're in Inslip more often. Ever take Danielle here?"

"Never have, never will," he said shaking his head while he met her mischievous gaze. "Just like I'd never meet you for lunch at Le Petite Mozart or bring you bagels from Steiner's. Those are Danielle's places. This is one of ours."

Brooke nodded as she looked down at the ice creme. They both knew Farrell's would always be a special place for them. A place that would always bring them back to a time that was there's and there's alone.

"Come on honey. Tell me what's on your mind," he said, as he resisted the temptation to pick up her hand.

"No," she said softly, as she shook her head.

Brooke moved the empty dish a side and ran her hand across Prescott's clean shaven face. She couldn't help but smile, knowing the only way his face could still be so smooth at 7:00 p m on a weeknight, was if he still kept a razor in his desk at the office as he had so many years before.

The light green eyes looked back at her knowingly, as he gave in and reached for her hand; bringing it to his lips.

"Whatever it is, I _can_ take it, darlin'. After all, I _did_ survive mafia hit men as well as your wrath, when I came back from the dead," he said as he gave her hand a squeeze. "I can't image anything more deadly than that."

"Words can't describe how much I wanted you to be alive, Sam. I just didn't expect-"

"I know. I also know you had every right to be mad as hell after what I put you through," he said with a sigh. "Not just letting you believe you'd been widowed, but not bein' there when you lost the baby."

"Let's not do this," she said as she slipped her hand out of his.

She knew if she let Prescott continue down the verbal path he'd stumbled onto, he knew her well enough that it wouldn't be long before he'd figure out why Cohen and McCoy had engineered the two of them meeting.

_Damn Jack for this stroll down memory lane,_ she thought angrily. _Sam was right…I have a new husband… He's the one I should be sharing my thoughts and feelings with, not sitting here dredging up the past… Nightmares be damned…_

"We both know I let you down in the worst possible way," he said as he looked down at the empty dishes. "I consider myself lucky you stopped with a single slap the night I came home."

"Sam, please. It was years ago. Besides, there's no going back," she interjected as the hormones began to rage once more. Wiping feverishly as her eyes, she desperately racked her brain to think of a way to throw him off and make him let go of the subject before it was too late. "Right now, I have enough on my plate with a husband that doesn't know what the hell he wants and a pregnancy that neither of us imaged could happen."

Prescott took the bait immediately.

"Jack's not happy about the baby," he said as his lips formed a disapproving line. "When Danielle and I talked to him that day I brought you home from the doctors, he seemed stunned. I figured once you two got over the shock, Jack would be more than pleased about havin' a child with you."

"I didn't say that he wasn't happy," she said as she thought of McCoy's call to Cohen.

_You want manipulate people Jack,_ she silently said to herself. _Fine, two can play that game._

"I just meant, after this afternoon's press conference, it's obvious the last thing Jack wants to do is stay home and change diapers. No matter _what _comes out of either side of his mouth."


	18. Chapter 18

"What the hell were you thinking telling your ex-husband that I don't want this baby," Jack McCoy demanded before the door to the loft closed.

Brooke threw him a triumphant glance as she set her things on the coat rack.

"What makes you think I did that," she asked as she turned away from the sofa and moved towards the refrigerator.

"Because when I got home from Clancy's, Danielle had already left me a message about being responsible and doing the right thing, as if I was some eighteen year old that knocked up his prom date," he snapped as he strode to the kitchen. "Damn it Brooke, do you honestly believe I don't want this child?"

"I believe you want to be DA a hell of a lot more than you want to sit around here and read _Goodnight Moon_," she said bluntly, as she took the glass of milk she'd poured and started towards the bathroom.

"One has nothing to do with the other," McCoy said as he reached for her arm.

"Just like my first pregnancy has_ nothing_ to do with this one," she said as she spun around to face him while she shook her arm from his grasp. "You have no idea what kind of fire you were playing with tonight, Jack. Don't try it again or you might get burned."

"Am I supposed to know what that means?"

Brooke snatched her bathrobe off the end of the bed and reached for the doorknob before turning toward McCoy.

"It means our marriage isn't the courtroom. I know you Jack. You make no apologies about playing to win, no matter who gets hurt. That's fine when we're talking about sending felons to prison, but it stops when either of us walks through that door."

"And you didn't play to win tonight, when you manipulated Sam into-"

"I wouldn't have _had_ to manipulate anyone if you hadn't put me in an impossible position," she shot back stubbornly. "Look. I know you thought you were helping, but did you _really_ think I'd tell Sam something so gut wrenching when there's no way he could change it? I mean, it's not like the man is going to jump out a window and kill himself for real, just so our baby has its father with him! I mean, do you_ really_ think I'd want that, even if it_ could_ happen," she said incredulously. "Would _you_ want that on you conscious if it _did_ happen?"

"I wasn't trying to provoke your ex-husband into committing suicide! I'm not going to apologize for wanting you to have as little stress as possible during this pregnancy," he said with equal stubbornness. "Contrary to what you seem to think, I want this child. We both know this is a high risk pregnancy. I don't want anything to jeopardize you or the baby."

"Then don't be an ass," she snapped as the bathroom door slammed shut.


	19. Chapter 19

As her husband slept, Brooke opened the Saturday addition of the_ New York Times_ and unseeingly gazed at the headline: _Arrest Made in Prominent Waxman Murder. _Curling up on the sofa, she stared down at the paper, her mind focused on her former husband and the events that had transpired the night before.

After successfully convincing Prescott that the real issue on her mind had been her self -centered, driven to win new husband, her former husband had insisted on driving her back to Manhattan. Noting that she would have a forty five minute wait at the train station before the next train to Manhattan arrived, Brooke had gratfully accepted his offer.

As they made their way home, the couple found themselves reminiscing about the early days of their marriage, and eventually, their courtship. By the time Prescott rounded the corner on to her street, the tension of the evening was long forgotten and they found themselves laughing almost to the point of tears.

"Oh God, I'd almost forgotten why we stopped skinny dipping after that trip," she said as Prescott sighed while they completed another trip around the block. "You know Sam, if you turn left on Banes, there's usually parking on Clifton. I can walk from there."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's only two blocks and there are always people on the street coming from the theater. I'll be fine."

Prescott followed her directions and shortly the pair found themselves parked a discreet distance from the loft.

"Well darlin' I have to tell you, it's been fun. I don't think we've talked like this since before I left."

"That's true," Brooke said thoughtfully as she leaned against the door. "So much as happened since you came back. It's been nice to have a chance to just talk. Not to fight, not to negotiate, just talking."

Prescott nodded in agreement, suddenly sorry they had to say goodnight.

"You know what, I'd feel a whole lot better if you let me walk you back to your place," he said after what seemed like an awkward silence. "Think you'd mind indulgin' me?"

"What is it with guys and pregnant women," she said as she shrugged her shoulders.

Brooke watched as Prescott came around to her side of the car to open the door. Shaking her head at her ex-husband's considerate, but unnecessary chivalry, she reached for the handle and began to step out of the car. As Prescott began to protest, Brooke remembered she'd left her purse on the floor of the car.

After reaching back for the purse she turned around and stepped up, inadvertently running into her former husband's chest. As they exchange startled apologies, Brooke rested a hand on his chest, as he reached for her forearm.

"Oh God," she whispered, when she immediately realized the effect of their proximity to one another. She looked up at Prescott who nodded in silent agreement.

"Yep. Not what I'd call a safe situation."

"Nope," she agreed as she felt the pounding of her heart. "Safe is_ not_ a word I'd use to describe this situation. You know, no matter how pissed I am right now, I _do_ love Jack?"

"I know that," Prescott said as he brushed the hair away from her eyes. "Just like you know I'd have never married Danielle if I didn't love her, as well."

"I know that," she said as she ran a hand over his cheek. "I want you to be happy, Sam."

"I want that for you too, honey," he whispered as he let a hand fall on her shoulder, while the other remained on her arm.

"You know this is a really bad idea," she remarked, well aware issuing a warning to hersefl, as well as her former husband.

"I do," he replied, as his breath became shallow.

"Well," Brooke asked, both hands now rested on his chest. Her feet seemed glued to the pavement.

"Well?"

"Well, what the hell are we doing, Sam?"

"You tell me, Mal," he said while he remembered the last time he'd held her in his arms.

Prescott stared down into the blue eyes that remained locked on his. He knew the smart thing would be to get in the car now, before things could go any further. He knew the last time they had, it had been the end of any hope he'd had for saving his marriage.

But looking down at his former wife, Prescott found himself powerless to take control. To take the decision out of her hands. He knew he wouldn't press the issue or make the first move, but he also knew if Brooke did, he wouldn't back down.

"I'm pregnant with another man's child."

"And I'm happy for you, Mal. I really am."

Brooke shook her head slowly as she gave him an ironic half smile.

"You would be," she said as her hand reached towards his neck. "Damn you for that, Sam."

The kiss had been gentle and sweet. Even as she stared blindly at the newspaper the next morning, Brooke could feel Prescott's tender lips tentively pressed against hers. She knew he was following her lead…following her to hell… and she knew why.

Running a finger over her lips, she remembered how natural it seemed to draw him close. Knowing neither of them could afford to let it happen again, she wrapped her arms around Prescott and opened her mouth in silent surrender.

"Anything worth reading on the front page?"

Brooke looked up from the paper with a start, finding her husband looking curiously down at her.

"I've only gotten as far as you're offices latest high profile case. The one about the analyst that was killed a few days ago?"

"Issac Waxman," McCoy said as he glanced at the paper while he sat beside Brooke. "Van Buren called me about that one before you came home last night. She said they were picking up the wife."

"Makes sense," she said drily before standing. "When your husband decides to act like an idiot, it _is_ tempting to just whack him and be done with it."

"Keep making comments like that and I'll cancel my appointment with my insurance agent," he countered curtly, after shooting her a look.

"Why would I care?"

"Given the fact we _are_ expecting a child, it seemed like a good idea to increase my life insurance policy," he began as he stood and moved towards the kitchen. "At least until you decided to go hormonal on me."

"_What,"_ she demanded as she tossed the paper on the coffee table and followed him. Shaking her head as he lifted the coffee pot in her direction.

"You heard me," McCoy said indifferently as he looked down at his irate bride. "I thought you were overreacting because of the baby. Now I know you're just setting up a defense for when you decide finish me off."

"I'll give you hormonal,"Brooke sneered. "_I'm_ not the one that had a surge of testosterone and decided look after the little woman in between sound bites."

McCoy's expression swiftly moved from surprised to comprehending. He shook his head as he chewed on his lower lip, while setting his coffee mug on the counter.

"So that's what we're_ really_ fighting about? This isn't about me overstepping with Sam and Jake. I seem to remember you telling me yourself that I'd want to make a run for DA. Now you're upset because I've ended up proving you right?"

"We're really fighting about the fact that," Brooke began before abruptly pausing.

_What can I say? We're really fighting about the fact that I have no fucking clue what I'm doing_, she thought in frustration as she studied the amused scowl framed by the flyaway locks of grey that were at that stage just before McCoy would break down and go to the barber. _…That you tried to look out for me and I almost betrayed you, for your trouble… Almost? Who am I kidding…_

"Brooke? An argument loses its steam when only one person is participating," McCoy said with a whisper of a smile. "I assume we _are_ still arguing? It's not like you to concede defeat so soon."

"Are you saying you _want_ to fight," she countered not quite meeting his eyes.

"I'm saying maybe we both should have known it wasn't going to be as easy as I thought for me to retire, no matter what I said," he admitted as he leaned against the refrigerator. "Look, Liz and I went down this road when Becky was born. We both know I'm ambitious -maybe too much so- but it's part of who I am. You said you saw the news yesterday. If I broadsided you when I was talking to those reporters I apologize. To be honest, I hadn't admitted to even to myself that I was interested in running when my term is up."

"Oh Jack, you were right," she said as she put her arms around him. "I saw it coming. I just wish you had."

_Yeah, I saw it coming alright…. _she silently told herself as he embraced her.

As she pressed herself closer to him, a wave of guilt washed over her. Part of her wanted to blurt the whole thing out. To put the events of the previous evening out on the table. But she knew it wouldn't be just her own marriage she was putting on the table if she tried to ease her conscious.

"Maybe I should have," he admitted as he looked down at her. "I knew how I felt after that first confrontation with the Chief of D's and Latham."

"Jack McCoy is nobody's place holder," she offered as she gave him an encouraging smile.

"Something like that. I'm not saying I won't retire at some point. Maybe when the baby's ready for school-"

"Now don't start_ that_ again," she warned. "Save promises you can't keep for the voters. Let's get through this pregnancy and your first campaign before we worry about the elementary school years."

McCoy nodded as she reached up to kiss him quickly.

"There's something else," he said as she slipped out of his embrace, just as his hand had found the back of her head and his lips had sought to deepen the kiss.

"What makes you think that," she asked, immediately realizing how transparent her remark was.

"Brooke, we're both ambitious people," he said as he watched her stick some bread in the toaster and busy herself gathering condiments from the refrigerator. "It's only natural you'd be concerned about your own career."

_Oh yeah, there is_ _that_, she thought cynically while he turned her from the toaster to face him.

"You have to remember Jack, I'm from the generation that grew up on _Mary Tyler Moore_ and _Ms._ Magazine. You know I want it all. Career_ and_ family. I just haven't figured out how to make happen," she said with a wink. "But, have no doubt; I _will_ figure it out. Just realize somewhere in the equation daycare is going to have to come into play."

"Yeah, I know you do," he said with a sigh as the toast sprang up. "Liz is only a few years ahead of you and she wanted it all too and look where we ended up."

"You're saying you're first marriage ended because you're first wife had bigger dreams than being barefoot and pregnant or because you were a Neanderthal back then," she asked with a smirk as she handed him a slice of toast.

"I'm saying I know it's not as easy as it looks in the movies," he replied with sudden seriousness. "Working and being a parent takes its toll, whether or not you're a mother or a father."

"I won't be you, Jack. I won't make you a promise I can't keep. I won't promise that I'll leave the DA's office when this baby's born. Right now, all I can do is take things one day at a time and on this day, I still choose to be an Assistant District Attorney."


	20. Chapter 20

"So what are you _really_ planning to do?"

"The same thing I told Jack I was going to do," Brooke said as she handed Shambala Green-Stone the big yellow ball with a plastic emblem of Barney at its center. "I'm taking it one day at a time. On this day, I'm asking you how you pulled of this motherhood thing and managed to stay in the fast line with your career."

Green-Stone handed the ball the impatiently waiting nine year old who's eyes held the same intensity that her mother's did.

"Remember, you and Kayla can go as far as the fountain. No further. Understood?"

"Understood, Mama," the over-all clad child said, before dashing across one of the greenbelts in Central Park West to where her friend waited.

"It's not the same situation, Brooke," Shambala Green-Stone replied as she took a seat on a nearby bench. "First of all, I wanted to have a child and so did Ben. Justine was planned. Besides," she said picking up her cup of lemonade. "Ben was teaching by then. He had a much more flexible schedule than Jack or you do right now."

Brooke shrugged as she sipped at the last of her lemonade, leaning back on the bench while she nodded.

"It's not that this child isn't wanted. Just because we didn't plan on a baby doesn't mean we don't want this child."

"Brooke, I know that. What I meant was, even if Ben had still been with the district attorney's office, we wouldn't have had the same issues that you and Jack do. We were younger. We knew it was just a matter of time before we would be parents together and neither of us had political ambitions. The issues are different for you and Jack, but that doesn't mean you won't put them to rest," she said reassuringly. "By the time the baby comes, you'll know if Jack's going to have a good shot at staying in the DA's office. You'll also have a better idea of how you really feel about being a mother. Giving it time is the best thing you can do right now."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Brooke responded thoughtfully as she stood to throw the empty cup in a trash can a few steps away. "So what's new on your caseload?"

As Green –Stone began her tale of the unreasonable ADA and the pure as the driven snow defendant, a story Brooke had heard with only a variation on the names and the charges more times than she could count, her mind drifted back to the events of the night before. The look in Prescott's eyes, the feel of his arms around her, the way he kissed her as if for the first time…

"Brooke," Green-Stone said with concern. "Are you all right?"

Brooke looked at the woman with a start, as she dropped the cup in the trash.

"Sorry, Sham. I didn't sleep well last night. Tell me again about this case-"

"Brooke, you've been distracted since I picked you up at the loft. I know you're not happy about Jack campaigning –"

"Oh, I can deal with Jack running for office. I might even be able to deal with the idea of me staying home until the baby's old enough for daycare," she said weighing the pros and cons of opening up to someone who was not only a close friend of Brooke's but a close friend of the new Mrs. Sam Prescott. "What I'm not sure I can deal with is Jack inadvertently stirring - "

Before she could finish her thought the cell phone in the pocket of her sweat jacket began to ring. After giving Green-Stone an apologetic shrug, Brooke flipped the phone open.

"Hey Jake, what's up," she began while Green-Stone moved towards the children. As she listened to Jake Cohen's summary of the case he had just caught, Brooke could feel her heart start to pound. After several minutes she assured Cohen she would be in Islip within the hour and snapped the phone closed as she headed to when Green-Stone and the children stood.

"Sorry Sham, gotta cut this short. Fire bombing in Islip."

"The clinic again?"

"Yeah. Damn pro-life radical took the clinic out along the three businesses next to it."

"Can't one of your ADA's handle it,' Green-Stone asked as she caught the ball her daughter had volleyed her way. "You're an EADA now. You don't _do_ weekend calls anymore. Besides, it's almost time to meet Jack and Ben. They should be done shooting hoops pretty soon.

"I'll call Jack on my way out to the scene. You guys should go ahead and have lunch without me."

"Right, just me there to referee Jack and Ben? I don't think so," Green-Stone countered, as she geared up for a round of verbal sparring.

"Then a rain check? Listen Sham, this time someone was in the building. This time, they managed to kill someone."

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Jack McCoy made his final shot before bending over to bring his head to his knees while he fought to catch his breath. When he had agreed to a morning of one on one with Ben Stone at Grammercy Park, he figured his monthly basketball games with Mike Cutter and some of the other men in his office would give him an edge over the academic. McCoy couldn't have been more wrong.

While the two men battled it out on the basketball court, Stone casually mentioned the weekly faculty /student games he had gotten into the habit of playing since he began teaching at NYU. That's when McCoy knew why he'd found himself out matched.

After making the winning shot Stone tossed a towel in McCoy's direction, as he reached for the last of his bottled water.

"You play dirty Stone. If I'd have known you had the advantage of playing on a regular basis with guys young enough to be our sons, I'd have made sure I was in better shape for this."

"Come on Jack," Stone said with a grin. "It's not playing with those bookworms that gives me an advantage, it's running around after Justine. It's amazing how much energy a nine year old saves up for when Daddy gets home."

McCoy nodded as he joined his former colleague on the bench.

"Yeah, I remember when Becky was that age," he replied as he reached into his gym bag. "They never seem to stop. But you seem to handle it pretty well. Tell me something, Ben. If you'd stayed with the DA's office do you think you'd of handled mid-life fatherhood as well as you are?"

Stone leaned back on the bench and thoughtfully gazed at McCoy. The question was one he'd been expecting since he'd agreed to spend the day with the McCoy's. It didn't take much insight to figure out both of the newlyweds might have some concerns about how the baby they were expecting would affect the life they were beginning together. As much as Ben Stone had been critical of the new DA in the past, he knew a man of McCoy's age had legitimate concerns about being a father again.

"If I'd stayed in the DA's office my home wouldn't have been a fit place to raise as child, "Stone said candidly. "With Shambala and I on opposite sides of the aisle, it would have been one battle after another. That wouldn't have been good for the marriage or for Keesha. Be glad you and Brooke don't have that obstacle to contend with."

"God knows we have enough obstacles to contend with already," McCoy remarked before realizing the words were out of his mouth. Silently he swore as Stone looked at him expectantly. "I what I meant was, there are enough obstacles with it being a high risk pregnancy. "

Stone nodded before busing himself with his own bag. At best, he thought of Jack McCoy as a former colleague and spouse of a trusted friend. At worst….well… he knew that to describe himself a Jack McCoy's friend would be a gross over statement.

Yet Stone couldn't help but sympathize with the other man. When he had married Shambala Green Stone had been fourteen years younger and at a stage in his life where his goals had changed dramatically. Instead of dreaming of filling Adam Schiff's shoes and prosecuting felons, Stone found himself mellowed and humbled by the death of one of his star witnesses…the event that led him to leave the DA's office.

By the time he and Green had married, Stone relished the idea of another child and the chance to approach fatherhood with the time to really get to know his second child.

For McCoy the pressure of a starting a new marriage, as well as a new career had doubled overnight, with Brooke's announcement that they were to be parents.

"I assume you've decided to run next term," Stone asked with his characteristic quiet intensity as the two men gathered the last of their things and started towards the showers.

"It's either run or let someone like Josh Latham run the office," McCoy replied with a hint of defensiveness.

"Yeah, when I read about you letting him go, I was surprised," Stone said with a knowing look. "I'd of thought if Adam hadn't canned him, Branch would have. The guy was an opportunist even when I was an ADA."

"Adam kept him around for the same reason Arthur did," McCoy confided. "Josh was a great one for keeping the Chief of D's happy. Whenever the police department turned up the heat against the DA's office, the DA could point to the fact one of his own hadn't ever prosecuted a dirty cop. Probably why Josh felt entitled to the job when Arthur left. Pay back for services rendered."

"Hate to say it," Stone said with a wiry grin as he reached for the door, "but you have my vote. You may be an SOB, but you're an SOB that follows the law. That alone puts you in a different league than the Lethem's of the world."

"High praise coming from you," McCoy retorted with a smile. "Maybe there's a snowball's chance I'll actually win the election. Of course if that happens, that opens up a whole new set of problems.'

"Meaning?"

"Meaning somebody's going to have to look after the baby and if I lose the election that problem goes away, at least for a while. If I win…well… let's just say I'm more sympathetic to the need for the DA's office to provide onsite child care than I was a month ago."

Stone nodded in understanding as McCoy's phone began to ring.

"Shambala would say it's the chauvinist in you. That we men never take issues like childcare seriously until that directly affect us. If it would help, I'd be happy to give you a list of the sitters and daycare sites we used when Justine was little."

"That might be as good a place as any to start," McCoy said appreciatively as he opened his phone.


	21. Chapter 21

"I want the people that did this Jake," Brooke whispered as the attendant covered the chard body that lay on the metal table." has anyone called Michael yet?"

Cohen gave the attendant a nod as he followed his supervisor into the hallway.

"I've left messages with the service, but he hasn't called back yet. When I heard Janine Connelly had been the doctor working late last night, I knew you'd want a call as well," he said as they stepped into the elevator. "Maybe when we track him down, you should be the one to tell Jackowicz."

Brooke nodded as the elevator door opened. It was common knowledge around both the legal and medical circles in the community that the DA and the local doctor had become very close since the death of Jackowicz's wife a few years earlier.

"I'll go over to his place before I head home. I know it's early, but what do the cops have so far," she asked, determined to fight the wave on nausea that had washed over her upon seeing the lifeless body of the woman who had been her OB/GYN since before her first marriage. As Cohen relied the facts of the case, Brooke could feel her rage building.

"Evidence or not, you and I both know where the police are going to end up tracing this thing back to," Brooke said as Cohen opened the door for her. "Damn these radical fringe groups."

"You're probably right. Shouldn't take the detectives too long to finish canvassing the neighborhood. If they get lucky and find someone who saw something, I'll give you another call."

"Thanks Jake," she replied as they walked towards her car. "But I already gave the lead detective my cell number. You can enjoy what's left of your weekend. I'm sitting first chair on this case."

"Brooke, you know you can't take the lead on this one," Cohen said with a start. "You were to close to Connelly to begin with and besides, you're pregnant."

"Come off it Jake," she said incredulously as she swung around to face him. "The fact that I was close to the victim is exactly _why_ I have to take the lead. I have the originals of every threat that's been sent to Janine since the clinic opened. That should give the detectives a leg up on finding the bastards that did this. As for being pregnant; so what?"

"So what," he asked, with equal annoyance. "So you know as well as I do, that if the cops find the purp and we go to trial, things could – and more likely will- get ugly. This wouldn't be the first case that the lunatics behind something decide to lash out at the prosecutor going after their 'noble martyr'. It wouldn't be the first time some nut decides to send a prosecutor a letter bomb or worse."

"Oh God! Like they wouldn't do the same thing once word gets out an openly gay man is prosecuting? Come one Jake, give me a break!"

"If they come after me, it's just me," he persisted, unconsciously looking towards her belly. "If they come after you it's… Listen, I'm the one that was with you when you lost your first child. I _remember_ what that did to you, even if you have decided to conveniently block it out. I don't think you could bounce back it you lost another child, so for once in your life, listen to reason and at least let me take the lead here."

"Jake," she said with a sigh, as her tone. softened "It's not like I'm looking to lose this baby _or_ get myself killed. You know as well as I do, Jackowicz will have the bomb squad checking the mail the second we announce the police have a suspect in custody. Nothing's going to get by those guys. Besides, I'm an EADA. This stuff comes with the title and you know it."

"What do you think Jack's going to say," he said not ready to concede defeat.

"What do you mean what's Jack going to say," she mimicked, with renewed sarcasm. "If you think either of us is in the habit of getting the other's okay as to which cases we're going to prosecute, you must be sniffing glue again."

"If you think Jack's going to sit back and watch you jeopardize not only your life but that baby's," Cohen countered with a sneer,"well I hate to think about what _you've_ been sniffing, girlfriend."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," she snapped as she pulled the driver's door open. "You and Jack have done enough do gooding in the last twenty four hours to last a lifetime and if you had any idea what a can of worms_ that_ opened…"

Brooke's tirade abruptly came to a halt as she realized, almost too late, the position she'd be putting Cohen in by telling him about her meeting with Sam Prescott the night before. Not only had Cohen become quite close to her new husband once again; he and Prescott had rebonded enough since his return for Prescott to have chosen Cohen to be his best man when he married Danielle Melnick. To give Cohen such a loaded piece of information was to put him smack in the middle of something that had the potential to damage if not destroy two marriages.

It would be more than unfair to expect Cohen to remain not only quiet, but neutral, by confiding in him.

"To be honest, I wasn't thrilled about bringing you and Sam together over something so emotional," Cohen admitted as he leaned against her door. "I have a pretty good idea what Jack's motives were -what he hoped to accomplish. The man is your husband and he's just trying to protect you the best way he can. Which is why I doubt he's going to be less than thrilled that his pregnant wife is going to take on Operation Rescue and company."

"Damn it Jake, I'm pregnant not helpless," she said as her patience gave out. "I've prosecuted drug lords and serial killers and lived to tell. You want to know what my husband's going to say? He's going to say 'use it'."

"Use it," Cohen repeated blankly.

"Yes. The pregnancy," she said intently as she leaned closer. "Think about it. Who better to prosecute a clinic bomber than a pregnant woman? If they come after me, it will just show what hypocrite's these people really are and help us to gain the juries sympathy. My husband would be the first one to see that. Jack McCoy didn't get to where he is now by being shy about playing to win - to take whatever advantage he has in a case a play it to the hilt. Why do you think they call Jack 'Hang 'Em High' in the first place?"

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"Use it," McCoy said without missing a beat, as he reached for his satchel and jacket.

"But Jack I'm still not sure I shouldn't go to the judge," Connie Rubirosa stammered as she turned her annoyed glare from Mike Cutter and onto the DA. "It was an ex parti communication between a juror and a prosecutor. Shouldn't I _at least_ tell the judge-"

"Did you initiate the contact," McCoy probed, as he reached for the door handle.

"No. He approached me on the street and I told him it would be inappropriate for us to continue the conversation," Rubirosa replied uncomfortably.

"Then there's nothing to tell -at least nothing worth jeopardizing this case going to verdict, "McCoy said firmly as he moved towards the elevator.

"But Jack-"

"Come on Connie, Jack's right," Cutter interjected. "What are you going to say to the judge? That a man finds you attractive? That's hardly news or grounds to risk the defense demanding a mistrial."

Rubirosa shot her supervisor a dagger look as she bit her lip and abruptly turned towards her cubicle.

"Any word on the Waxman case," McCoy asked as the elevator doors opened.

Cutter turned his attention from the door that closed just a little too hard and back to the DA's inquiring gaze.

"The police think they might have a motive for the wife. Seems they found a series of audio tapes with the name 'Meredith' on them."

"Meredith? "

"Green and Lipo are thinking revenge killing for an affair the doctor was having. The wife finds the tapes,sees the name, puts two and two together and snaps."

"Have they found the mistress yet?"

"Not yet. Green thinks they should be through the patient files sometime tonight," Cutter said holding the elevator door. "With any luck they'll find Meredith there."

"Keep me posted," McCoy remarked as the pressed the lobby button. "I'll have my phone on until I get back from dinner."

"It could be late Jack," Cutter said as he stepped back.

"Brooke and I are having dinner with Ben Stone and Shambala Green. Dinner will run late, so don't hesitate to call when you hear from Green."

"Will do," Cutter said as the doors began to close.

As he walked towards his office, Cutter found himself hesitating in front of Rubirosa's door. Torn between apologizing for letting the decision as to whether she should go to the judge be taken out of her hands and his own relief that McCoy had stepped in when he did.

As much as her words rang uncomfortably true, Cutter still felt justified in, as Rubirosa described with unusual crudity, 'pimping' his ADA out to the jury. There was no question in his mind that the defendant was guilty. He probably would have obtained a guilty verdict without juror number eight remaining on the jury anyway, but why risk it? _Besides_, he told himself as he slowly moved passed her door down the hall to his own office, _I'll make it up to her after the trial…I still have to make good on that dinner at Twenty One I promised Connie after we went to the mall… maybe when the verdict comes in we can make it a celebration and fresh start kind of thing… maybe by then she'll be in more of a mood to forgive and forget…_


	22. Chapter 22

By the time Jack McCoy took a seat beside his wife the waiter was clearing what remained of the appetizers after refilling the wine glasses. After making his apologies to the group, McCoy slipped one of the departing mozzarella balls off the plate and into his mouth as Brooke asked the waiter for another glass of orange juice.

"I went ahead and ordered you the veal," she said with a smile as McCoy reached for his wine glass. "When I told Ben your last meeting was with the chamber of commerce, he said Adam used miss whole meals when he had to meet with those people, so…"

"The veal's fine," he replied, pleased that his wife remembered how much he favored the dish. "This time I have to blame my staff for making me late. I would have been here twenty minutes ago if one of my ADA's hadn't gotten squeamish about using her assets to win a case."

Green-Stone and Brooke exchanged smirks as they turned their accusing eyes on McCoy, who in turn shrugged his shoulders at Ben Stone.

"Don't look at me for help on this one," Stone said with a chuckle. "You're DA. You're supposed to know better."

"You encourage you female subordinates to 'use their assets' to win their cases," Green–Stone interjected looking down her nose suspiciously. "I don't suppose Brooke mentioned that I handle class action harassment suits from time to time?"

"This is why the ERA still hasn't been added to the constitution," McCoy said with amusement. "Misperception and assumptions. When I said 'assets' I could have meant the attorney's skill, her courtroom experience-"

"Oh cut the crap Jack," Brooke said shaking her head. "Shambala and I both know what you meant. You may not have expected this ADA to sleep with anyone, but this_ is_ about using sex, on _some_ level. So, without jeopardizing the attorney's case, spill it."

As McCoy skillfully retold Rubirosa's story, omitting the key details in a hushed tone to ensure no ethical violations were made, Ben Stone glanced at the two women before giving McCoy a look that screamed 'the more you talk, the deeper you bury yourself'. Green-Stone rolled her eyes as she downed the last of her wine and Brooke stared at her husband as if seeing a stranger.

"…and I still don't see anything remotely unethical about it."

"Yeah, a guy wouldn't. Present company excluded Ben," Brooke said with a nod to her friend. "Especially a guy that dated four assistants."

As other couple shot each other a glance and guardedly waited to see how McCoy would respond. Brooke rested her chin in her hands. She waited for a response as if she were watching a tennis match and waiting for the next serve.

"And if I had declined to pursue any of those women just because they were subordinates, you'd say I had been parenting them. That they were adults, free to decide whom to date without Big Brother looking over their shoulders," McCoy countered with equal smugness, as the waiter returned with their dinner orders.

"You have me there, Jack," Brooke admitted after the waiter had gone. "However, the difference between you dating an assistant and you telling an assistant not to see a judge when she knows a juror has noticed her as a woman _is_ your ADA didn't make the decision to use her sexuality, _you_ made it _for_ her. If_ I_ were your ADA, I'd go to the judge just to spite you and if you were dumb enough to threaten me with disciplinary action for insubordination, I'd tell you to put it in writing. Then I'd tell you to go to hell and sue not only the DA's office, but you personally."

"She's right Jack," Green-Stone agreed, smiling at the mixture of annoyance and forlornness on the face of the man across from her. "It's one thing when I decide to unbutton my blouse or raise my skirt enough to distract a prosecutor or a judge, but if my partner directed me to do it, it would be sexual misconduct."

"What do you mean _when_ you unbutton your blouse or raise your skirt," Stone joked as he looked as his wife with feigned shock. "Are you saying you still _do_ that? I thought that stopped after I left the DA's office and married you."

"Now Ben," Green-Stone said with quiet amusement, while patting her husband's hand."You know I was just making a point."

Has the couple began to chuckle, McCoy stabbed a piece of the veal with his fork and innocently raised his eyebrows as he turned his attention to his wife's triumphant gaze.

"First of all, the juror approached the ADA. I didn't send her to him. Second of all I wonder, does your argument extend to _all_ third party manipulations of an 'innocent' participant?"

"I would assume so," Brooke said looking at Green-Stone for confirmation.

"So you're saying it's improper-unethical even- for a person in a position of power to manipulate a weaker,less powerful third party?"

"We're saying no one has the right to expect someone to put themselves a situation that person may be uncomfortable with, just because the third party is in a position of power," Green-Stone offered, as Brooke nodded.

"Really? Then I assume you're ready to recuse yourself from the Connelly case," McCoy said drily as he leaned back in his chair with an arrogant smirk.

The fork in Brooke's hand slipped from her fingers, hitting her plate with a 'clang', as a tight smile formed on her lips. The couple across from them exchanged knowing glances, both of them aware of the case Brooke was handling against the clinic bomber who had murdered Dr. Janine Connelly almost a week before.

"I don't understand Jack," Stone began. "Brooke is prosecuting a murderer. She's the lead prosecutor. How is she-"

"Sweetheart, how far along are you," McCoy asked his wife with an amused smile.

"You know damn well I'm almost three months along."

"And what size was that maturity smock you bought to wear to arraign the suspect in?"

"Shut up, Jack," she shot back, immediately aware of where he wanted to take the conversation.

"Fine. I have another question. Since when does an EADA handle arraignments," he persisted. "Isn't that something an assistant or your second chair, usually handles?"

"Oh no," Green-Stone sputtered, her eyes wide. "You're saying Brooke is using the baby to manipulate sympathy for the prosecution in the Connelly case?"

"It would appear so," McCoy said as he savored a long swallow of wine."I don't recall the baby sending a message from the womb that it wanted to have its presence made known before Mommy has even started to show."

"You know you'd be the first one to praise a move like this, if one of your own ADA's made it," Brooke countered as she gave him a dagger look.

"That was before."

"Before what," she countered, as she reached for her orange juice.

"Before the two of you pointed out the error of my ways," McCoy said shooting Stone a satisfied glance. "Now I know using people is unethical. It's more than that. It's bad…it's _wrong_. It's behavior that is obviously beneath the mother of my child."

"I'll be a long time before _this_ mother's beneath _you_ again, McCoy," Brooke muttered as the rest of the group began laughing at her tone, as well as the implied meaning of her words.

Brooke couldn't resist laughing herself when she saw her husband's flabbergasted expression. His look of astonished amusement melting away any trace of annoyance she felt a moment before.

"It must have been some joke," an amused voice commented, as the group focused their attention on the couple standing at the front of the table.


	23. Chapter 23

Stone and McCoy automatically stood; McCoy warmly embracing the smartly dressed woman, Stone offering his hand to the dashing man in the three piece suit.

Brooke watched as the usual pleasantries were exchanged between the couple and the group. She smiled at Danielle Melnick, unable to miss the radiant glow the other woman possessed. It was the first time the two women had seen each other since Brooke found out she was pregnant. That day she had been too ill and preoccupied to really gage how Melnick beamed. Now Brooke could see Melnick's joy afetr becoming the wife of the federal prosecutor was unmistakable.

"So Brooke, are you going to let us in on the joke," Melnick was with a knowing grin. "What's Jack done this time?"

"Wait a minute," McCoy playfull objected. "When did this become 'take a poke at the McCoy' night?"

"Come on Jack. Think of this a practice for when you start your campaign and the press gets to take a crack at you. Not to mention the 'roasts' all of us will be invited to speak at once you become a national symbol for good government."

Melnick's joking remark set off another round of laughter with the group. Afterwards Shambala Green-Stone recapped the highlights of the conversation, much to McCoy amused dismay.

While Prescott listened, his polite smile deepened. When Green-Stone mentioned Brooke's case, he briefly met Brooke's eyes, silently looking for her response.

"You know Brooke's right," Melnick said as she looked accusingly up at McCoy. "If it was your case, you'd get a wig and some padding and change your name to Jacqueline so you could pull the same stunt."

"Excuse me," the waiter said as he reached to clear the remaining dinner dishes. "Will you need more menus?"

"Actually, we just had dinner," Prescott began as another waiter moved passed them with the dessert cart.

Ben Stone smiled at Melnick's lingering gaze as the cart paused at the table behind him.

"We're about ready for coffee and dessert," Stone remarked as he pulled the chair between himself and McCoy out. "Why don't you join us and give Danielle a chance to reexamine the tiramisu ?"

Before Prescott could respond Melnick was sitting. Prescott gave her a quick smile before taking the remaining seat at the other end of the table, between Green-Stone and Brooke.

"And here we were both tryin' to be good," Prescott commented as he took the dessert menu the waiter offered, his eyes briefly meeting his ex-wife's, offering a silent apology.

"There's no point in that here," Stone commented. "When Shambala said we were eating at Gino's, I knew I'd have to do a week's worth of laps to make up for the slice of rum cake I'm about to order."

After the waiter departed with their order, McCoy took to opportunity to ask Melnick about the case she and Ron Carver were duking it over. As his wife spoke, Prescott lightly touched Brookes finger tips and whispered his sympathies.

"I'm sorry about Janine. I know you two were close. I can't image what a shock it must have been for you when you saw the body."

Brooke nodded slightly and turned towards him.

"When I'm finished with this case, they'll be more than one McCoy known as 'Hang 'Em High' ," she said meeting his gaze. Brooke frowned slightly upon seeing the briefest flash of uncertainty in her ex-husband's eyes. "What?"

"You don't wanna know. Not now," he said loud enough to peek Green-Stone's interest. "I'll tell you after dessert. That's a promise."

"Now Sam, if you want Brooke to eat her dessert and not inhale it you might as well tell her what ever it is now," Green-Stone commented as Melnick nodded in agreement, while the waiter began setting the desserts in place.

"You know you have to tell her, Sam. Oh," Melnick said with a start, noting the looks of concern around the table. "Sorry. Everybody's fine. This is business. Business that Sam was going to discuss with Brooke tomorrow morning."

"A case," McCoy asked as he brought a piece of chocolate torte to his lips.

"A case," Stone echoed. "Last time we spoke you were working for the southern district Sam, here in Manhattan."

"I am," Prescott explained as he set his napkin down. "They're a little short handed in Islip at the moment. I'm helpin' out until they hire a replacement for Jim Waters."

"Which case and who's the attorney of record," Brooke asked anticipating Prescott's news as she bit into a piece of her cannoli.

Stone and McCoy exchanged wary glances upon seeing the look of dread on Prescott's face.

"No," Green-Stone gasped as she looked at Melnick, who was nodding in confirmation.

"Sam," Brooke inquired tightly."I _know_ you don't think you're taking over the Connelly matter."

Prescott stood, taking Brooke's arm.

"Maybe you all better excuse us a moment."

"Anything you have to say to me, can be said here and now in the presence of my husband," Brooke retorted coolly.

McCoy shot first his wife, then Prescott startled glances, taken aback by his wife's sudden change in manner.

"I prefer not to have my wife subjected to one of your tantrums," Prescott shot back with equal coolness while seeing Green-Stone sagely slide the full glasses in front Brooke to the other side of the table, out of the corner of his eye.

"What's gotten in to both of you," Stone demanded; the professor asking the question all the members of the stunned group were curious to learn the answer to.

McCoy could see his wife's hands were quivering, as she snatched her purse and suit jacket before wordlessly walking towards the front door.

By the time Prescott caught up with her, Brooke was sitting at one of the tables of an outdoor Barista four blocks from the restaurant, cell phone in hand.

Prescott quietly took the seat in front of her and patiently waited for her to finish chewing out the unfortunate soul at Islip's 15th precinct that had the misfortune of catching her call.

"Takin' things out on the desk sergeant at the 1 5 isn't gonna change the fact I'm workin' the Connelly case, Mal."

"Don't call me that," she said snapping the phone shut. "I'm Brooke McCoy now. I'm Jack's wife. I'm the tantrum throwing bitch that's going to keep this case in the jurisdiction of Suffolk County, not the federal prosecutor's office."

"I_ never_ called you a bitch," he said quietly looking at the ground.

"You will before this case is over," she shot back as she stared blindly at the night traffic. "The murder occurred in Suffolk County. That triumphs any charges you might have against the defendant. At least I assume that, given the lead detective as yet to check in with my office to inform me of the involvement of the state attorney's office."

"Don't fault the guys at the 1 5. I just got word myself before Danielle and I sat down to dinner. I'll bet there's a message on your voice mail at the office updating you. The fact is, that we can link your defendant to three other clinic bombs in Maryland and Massachusetts. This one is cut and dried, Mal. I'll be filin' a habeas writ in federal court first thing tomorrow mornin'."

"Then you're in for a fight. I'm not letting this one go easily. Neither will Michael. I'll fight it all the way to the state supreme court if I have to."

"I expected nothin' less," he said wearily. "For the record, I didn't mean to hurt you back there at the restaurant. When you made that crack- damn it honey- the words just flew out of my mouth."

Brooke nodded as she turned to face him. Much to his surprise there was no trace of anger in the tired blue eyes that looked back at him.

"It was a stupid thing to say," she admitted as she hugged herself. "Not only a nasty thing to say to you, but a red flag to Jack and Danielle that something's not right."

"Brooke, it was a kiss. One kiss between two people with a whole lot of history," Prescott said with sudden tenderness.

"Can you tell me it meant nothing to you," she asked expectantly.

Prescott sighed heavily as he thought about the kiss that had made him laugh with pleasure. The joy his heart felt when he found himself unexpectedly holding Brooke in his arms again had been more compelling than he could have ever imaged. Kissing her and getting a response that was inviting and loving had made his head spin with questions he shoved to the back of his mind that night; determined to enjoy what he knew would be a fleeting moment of happiness in the arms of a woman he had already lost.

"'Course not," Prescott finally answered; the hint of disappointment in her eyes coming as no surprise to him."I know. It would make life a whole lot less complicated if I could say kissin' you meant nothin' to me. I've only told you one lie in all the time I've known you and we saw what damage that lie did to the both of us. I'm not gonna tell you another one now."

"What about the lie you're telling Danielle by not saying anything about what happened," she asked thoughtfully. "What about the lie I'm telling Jack by omitting the same thing? Not to mention the new lies we'll have to tell when we both go home tonight?"

"Come on," Prescott said with a heavy sigh as he stood and offered her his hand.

"Where?"

"I don't know," he said as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "I just know we need to walk this off. At least I do. 'Sides if nothin' else, we need to compare notes on the case."

Brooke chuckled softly, as she shot him a look and shook her head.

"Sam, I may not know what hell I'm doing with you personally, but if you think I'm giving you a shred of information about this case until a judge says I have to, you're out of your mind."


	24. Chapter 24

"What the exactly went on between you and Sam after you left last night," Jack McCoy demanded the next morning when his wife informed him over breakfast that she was passing the Connelly case onto Jake Cohen.

"I'm not doing it because of Sam, "Brooke responded before finishing the last of her French toast. "I'm doing it because of you and what you said last night."

McCoy shook his head in disbelief. Once he had received a call from his wife to have her dessert boxed and to inform him she would meet him back at the loft once she and her ex-husband finished discussing the status of the Connelly case, McCoy figured any hope he'd had of convincing Brooke to drop the Connelly case had been dashed.

Knowing not only that the 'Feds' wanted a fight for jurisdiction, but that Sam Prescott would be leading the charge, McCoy assumed Brooke would savor the case even more than she already did.

"You're not talking about our tit for tat at dinner last night, are you," he asked with genuine surprise.

"You were right. Using our child as a weapon against some lunatic is hardly the behavior you should expect from the mother of your child."

"Brooke, you know those were just words-just a counter move to your sexual misconduct argument about Connie-"

"Connie," Brooke asked with a sudden smile. "I_ wondered_ if you were talking about Connie. Man, I'll bet she was ready to give it to Mike Cutter both barrels after you left, given…"

"The point I'm trying to make is you were right; a pregnant woman as lead prosecutor is going to play much better with the jury than a man. Gay or otherwise."

Brooke looked across the table at her husband with amusement. When she returned home the night before, McCoy had been sound asleep in their bed. After quietly dressing for bed, Brooke had slipped in beside him and thoughtfully studied the man next to her.

She had already been toying with the idea of recusing herself from the case during her cab ride home. When she had accused McCoy of not knowing the kind of fire he was playing with, she also realized how potent the fire was _she_ was playing with. Looking down at her sleeping husband, her choices were easy to see.

Lead the case or put her marriage first.

"So what are you saying, Jack? Now that I agree with you, you've decided you want me to run this case? God, and they say women are the fickle ones."

"I never thought it was my choice to make," McCoy sputtered, utterly confused.

"Usually it's not. This time, it is," she said simply as she leaned across the table. "You know what?"

"I'm not sure I know _anything_ right now."

"Well know this," she said before kissing him full on the mouth. "I love you."

"Am I supposed to understand what is happening here," he asked as he reached up to pull her back to him.

"Nope," she said cheerfully. "Just chalk it up to hormones and kiss me again."

"It's going to be an interesting eight months," McCoy replied as he shook his head; bemused by Brooke's sudden turn around. "I love you too."

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When he arrived at One Hogan Place McCoy was still wearing the same look of befuddlement he had left the loft with. McCoy was taking messages from his administrative assistant when Mike Cutter got off the elevator.

"Jack, you got a minute," Cutter asked after doing a double take upon seeing McCoy almost goofy expression. "Ah Jack, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, why do you ask," McCoy gruffly, shaking off his confusion and starting towards his door. "Verdict in yet?'

"Not yet."

"What about 'Meredith'? Did Green and Lupo find Waxman's mistress yet," he asked as he set his helmet down beside his satchel and began his morning ritual of dressing for the second time.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Cutter said as he closed the office door. "No mistress, but they did find out Waxman had been his wife's analyst before they were married. _Well_ before…"

"Meaning?"

"Waxman was sleeping with his wife not only when she was his patient, but before the age of consent. Well before. She was fifteen, Jack."

McCoy whirled around from the clothing rack; shooting the EADA a sharp look as he absorbed the facts he'd just been given.

"That means the wife's defense lawyer is going to try to get by a guilty verdict by saying Waxman abused his wife-maybe try a variation of the battered wife defense."

"Let's face it, every woman on the jury's going to think the guy was scum…probably most of the men…as well."

"And I'd agree," McCoy said somberly as he finished dressing. "If Issac Waxman were alive, I'd not only have his license I'd have him in Attica on rape charges in a heartbeat. But he's dead and that makes him a victim and we don't try the victim, Mike. Remember that and be sure the jury remembers it too, when you go to trial."

"Actually, I have a thought on how to keep that in the juries mind," Cutter tentatively offered. McCoy grabbed a tie from the rack and gestured for Cutter to continue, as he sat down at his desk. "I did some research on the web before I got in this morning. Apparently there's a doctor who just completed a study on the effects of consensual sex with underage girls-"

"There is no such thing as consensual sex with underage girls," McCoy countered.

"Legally: No. Realistically? According to this study, minors that consented to sex with their partners show no long term physical or emotional damage. In other words-"

"The study supports the theory Mrs. Waxman doesn't have justification for murdering her husband based on their relationship prior to her coming of age?"

"It does."

"And this is a study done by a reputable doctor with more than mail order credentials," McCoy asked skeptically.

"It comes from a Johns-Hopkins researcher. It doesn't get much more reputable than that."

McCoy leaned back in his chair and nodded wearily.

"Run it by Connie yet?"

"Thought I'd run it by you first and if I survived, _then_ I'd go to the big guns," Cutter said with a shy grin.

"Wise man," McCoy agreed with a faint smile.

He could only image what his dinner companions from the night before would say about this new wrinkle. He shuttered to think how his wife would react. Although, the way his wife had reacted that morning, maybe she'd surprise him again and find the study had merit…

_Yeah Jack, keep telling yourself that as the frying pan comes fly towards your head_, he thought with a smirk.

"Have Connie contact the doctor and get him in here for prep."

"The docotor's a woman, Jack."

"Even better," McCoy said thinking of the conversation from the night before. "A woman peddling this crap will play with the jury more believably than some misogynic man peddling it."


	25. Chapter 25

"Brooke what is this I hear about you handing off a high profile case to Cohen," Michael Jackowicz demanded as he motioned for his EADA to follow him into his office. "I seem to remember making _you_ my Executive, not Jake Cohen. Although, I can remedy that it you're finding the demands of the job beyond your abilities."

"Sam's handling the Fed's case," Brooke countered indifferently as she closed the door. "You realize that alone makes this a conflict of interest, as well as the fact I'm a founding member of the board of directors for Janine's clinic."

"Since when have you given a damn about how things appear," Jackowicz snapped as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "If I had a problem with any of it, I'd of pulled you off of the case myself. Hell, Sam handling this jurisdictional game of chicken makes me want to have you as lead counsel, even more."

"He knows how I'll approach the case, step by step."

"And _you_ know every weakness that man has," the DA countered. "Use them. Every one."

"What the hell do you mean 'use them'," she snapped as she leaned across the desk. "Are you asking me to spread my legs for this office, as if-"

_"What_?! Are you out of your mind," Jackowicz barked, with an expression a kin to someone who had just seen an alien in the toilet. "First of all, I didn't say _any_thing about _sex_! Second of all, screwing one's Ex is something most men only find enjoyable in a courtroom during the property settlement, and third of all, if I wanted my Executive to sound like a streetwalker I'd hire someone from _Heidi's House of Love_ to do your job, not a Stanford graduate! 'Are you asking me to spread my legs'- when did you turn into such a potty mouth, anyway?"

Brooke's look of outrage changed to one of total embarrassment, as her face brightened. She knew her recent dealings with both her current and former husbands were affecting her judgment in ways that mortified her.

"Hormones," she offered meekly, as she peeked up at her boss with an expression of such discomfort, Jackowicz could feel his indignant scowl soften.

"Have a seat and tell me what this is really about," her superior said gruffly. "Listen, if you want to drop the case because of your pregnancy, becuase there's a risk of one of those zealots endangering you and the baby, I understand. I don't like it, but I understand it. If you could just stay with the case until we can wrestle it out of the reach of the Fed's, I have no problem with Cohen taking it on at that point."

Brooke knew her boss was offering her a gracious way off of the case and that knowledge made her more than a little angry at herself for not being about to reconcile her personal and professional lives.

No matter how bad an idea it was for her to be anywhere near her ex husband at that point, there was no way she wanted to let her boss think a pregnant woman needed 'special' considerations to do her job.

"It's not about the baby. "

"Then what's the problem," he asked trying to piece together the few clues he had to Brooke's uncharacteristic behavior. "I know how close you and Janine were. I know you had no intention of handing this case off when you had the chance…when Jake caught it right after the fire. Is it McCoy? Is Jack concerned about the fallout this case could have? Is he concerned about you having another miscarriage because of the stress?"

"Jack has nothing to do with it. You know I make my own decisions, Michael. I have no problem handling this case in criminal court."

"In criminal court," Jackowicz repeated thoughtfully. "Just not Federal Court, were you have to deal with Sam? Why?"

Brooke felt as if her boss could see right through her. She knew one of the reasons Michael Jackowicz had been DA as long as he had been was his insight into what motivated the people around him. She also knew he had seen enough of her and Prescott's interactions over the years to have just cause for being a little suspicious as to her obvious desire to avoid her ex husband.

"We've started new lives, Michael," she said at last. "Spending time together even professionally, when we've both remarried so recently just seems like revisiting the past. It's uncomfortable, but not but not impossible, "she continued as she stood. "I'll work through it and act like a professional."

"I _thought_ that was you two the other night," he said softly as she reached for the door.

"Where," Brooke asked as she stood with her back still to him, already sure of the answer.

"Brooke, you know how often Janine and I went to Farrell's. You know that's where we met after Ruth died," Jackowicz said knowingly. "Is it really a surprise to you that I've been in there every night since Janine was murdered?"


	26. Chapter 26

"I thought you were going to pass this case off to Cohen," he inquired after his secretary ushered her into his office and departed.

"Tried," she said wearily as she dropped her briefcase on the floor beside her chair.

"Well," he pressed as he finished pouring each of them a cup of coffee and returned to the chair behind his desk.

"Well, I'm here. Obviously, handing off the cases to cohen didn't go over well on my side of the street,"she retorted as she took a seat across from her ex-husband."So much for 'well'."

Sam Prescott nodded as he handed her one of the cups.

"Yeah. You should have known Michael would want his top gun to see this one through from start to finish. At least 'finish' will only be in a day or two," Prescott replied with an amused wink. "Seein' as we both already know who the judge is going to rule in favor of."

"A day or two? We'll see if you're still quite so confident, come Fridat," Brooke said smugly as she set the cup down and reached for her briefcase. "I can't drink that."

"Why?"

"Caffeine."

"Babies don't like caffeine?"

"Nope."

"Well then I guess it's good thing it's decaf, isn't it," Prescott said with a self satisfied smile, as he pushed packets of sugar and crème , as well as a plastic spoon in her direction. "Wasn't sure how much babies liked sugar and powdered creme, so I figured I'd let you make that call yourself."

"Pretty impressed with yourself, aren't you Prescott," she began, smiling at him inspite of herself. "Listen, Michael made it clear we're not giving up on jurisdiction. Since there's no way I'm getting out of this -and frankly there's no way I want to now- maybe you should avoid the embarrassment of losing to me and have someone else present your meager case Friday."

"No can do, honey," Prescott replied frankly. "I told you they're shorthanded here. No one to pass this one off to, even if I wanted to. As much as I sympathize with you and Michael, this goes beyond one clinic and one doctor. This one needs to go to federal court."

"Where you'll more than likely bargain the bomber down to get to a bigger fish," she said bluntly as she stirred her coffee. "You know Michael isn't going to sit still for that."

"Well, what Michael's gonna do is neither here nor there," he said with a sigh as he took the file she offered. "It's what Judge Barkley's gonna do Friday morning that will call this thing. Now, I assume your office didn't leave anything out of this lil ole discovery package the court's ordered in the mean time?"

"You know how inefficient a small time operation like mine is, Samuel. Anything's possible,"she said primly, while watching hm open the file. "If you find something's amiss just leave me a message and I'll be sure to get back to you with the speed I know you expect from a small time DA."

"Lord Mal, don't make me throw a pregnant woman in the county jail on an obstruction charge," he moaned as he glanced up from the file. "All that's in this is half a ream of blank paper!"

Brooke snickered as she slipped another file from her case and tossed it across the desk with a grin.

"Sorry Prescott. Guess I grabbed the wrong file. What do you expect? You know how limited us locals are."

Prescott shot her a shrewd glance as he tossed the first file back at her.

"Wise ass." He muttered as he flipped the file open. "Guess I shouldn't complain though. You seem a lot more relaxed than I expected you to be about havin' to work with me."

"Relaxed isn't the word," she said suddenly serious. "The word is numb. I'm still numb from talking to my boss."

"Knew you were graspin' when you thought he'd just let you dump the case. Even though it'll be a moot point when I'm finished with you Friday," he said as paused to pick up his pipe, suddenly hesitating. "Babies don't like smoke either, right?"

"I'll bring a gas mask next time," Brooke said shaking her head. "Sorry."

"I'll survive. Speakin' of smoke, it's damn shame, "he continued as he skimmed the autopsy report. "All that smoke…Janine didn't have a chance in hell of stayin' conscious long enough to get out. From the looks of this report, the bomber would have had to realize that."

"The only life these people care about is life before birth," Brooke replied bitterly. "If I wasn't sure I could nail this bastard myself, I'd throw him and his friends to you in a heartbeat. Thank God they were stupid enough to-"

Prescott looked up from the file and waited; smiling to himself as Brooke abruptly closed her mouth and glared at him.

"Aw come on girl, you know you want tell me," he prodded. "Just between us, what do you have that didn't come under the court order to slip into my lil ole file here?"

"The order included discovery from your end as well," she countered, as she stuck her hand out. "Gimme."

"God, this is just ridiculous," he said as he pointed to the tray at the end of the desk. "Do you realize the case we could build if we just cut the politics out of this and worked together?"

"Do you realize the trouble we could create if _that_ happened," Brooke countered candidly. "Do you know how lucky we've both been that either Jack or Danielle as sensed anything? My God Sam, even Michael figured out-"

"Michael," Prescott sputtered. "That's why you're numb? Why in _hell_ would you talk to Michael of all people about …about whatever is going on between us?"

"Because I want to blow my career, right along with my marriage, apart," she said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. "Why the _hell_ would you even_ think_ I'd do something so stupid? I'm not the one that thought ice creme at one of my bosses old hang out's was such a great idea."

"How the hell was I supposed to remember Farrell's was Michael and Janine's place," he shot back as he slammed the file down and stood up to lean across the desk. "Why in blazes couldn't you just tell me what was on your mind that day?"

"Maybe you wouldn't have to remember details like that if you just took 'no' for an answer," she said standing as well and meeting him halfway across the desk, while deliberately ignoring the last question. "Why in hell do you think you have a God given right to know what's on my mind?"

"Maybe if your current husband didn't think I had a right to know what's on your mind, I wouldn't either," he shot back, as he raised his hands in exasperation and began pacing between his desk and the door. "Why the hell did Jack have Jake call me in the first place?"

"Maybe if you'd been around seven years ago Jack, wouldn't feel the_ need_ to fill you in now," she said the adrenaline working faster than her reason, as she refused to back down. "Why the hell did you have to be so damn arrogant and decide you and you alone knew what was best for both of us?"

"Maybe because I didn't want to get you _killed_," he said as he sharply look towards her; abruptly eneding his pacing a few inches from her.

As he met her eyes, he could sense Brooke was right on the edge. A voice in the back of his mind told him he needed to stop; to take a breath and think about the questions that had already been raised that had gone unanswered.

Jackowicz knew…knew what, he wondered as the mentally shifted though her words. That they'd gone out for ice crème? That was hardly a crime. That they'd shared an ill advised kiss on a busy Manhattan street? Unlikely, unless Michael had suddenly imaged himself to be a member of the morality police and followed the pair to the city.

Then there was this '_if you'd been around seven years ago Jack might not feel the need to fill you in'_ business.

_Fill me in about what_, the voice asked._ His affair with my wife? Well, hardly an affair, since everyone thought I was dead. The miscarriage? Andy already did that and Mal knows it…Hell she and I have talked about it …but not about specifics….not about..._

"Maybe it's because I didn't want to bury you for real," he continued scanning her face, trying to see what she was so intent on not saying. He continued to hold her gaze, as he searched for the right button to push to force her hand once and for all. "How the hell was I supposed to know you were pregnant?"

"Would it have mattered?"

"Of _course_ it would have mattered! How the_ hell_ can you ask me _that_?"

"How the hell would I know," she shouted back, this time her thoughts flying out of her mouth before her mind could censor them. "Maybe if you'd thought enough of me to tell me you were going to go into hiding, I'd have had a chance to tell you about the baby. Maybe I would have gone _with_ you and we'd still have our child."

"So _that's_ what this is about," he demanded. As much as he wanted to stop, he knew if he was going to ever hear the whole truth it would be in that moment. As horrified as he felt once his mind absorbed the meaning of her words, Prescott forced himself to keep his emotions in check and make that final push. "Maybe if I'd been there, you wouldn't have lost the baby. You blame me for losing the baby? How the hell can you say it was my fault?"

"Maybe if you were dead like you're supposed to be, our baby would be with its father and not be all alone. How the _hell_ could you come back and leave our baby alone?"

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Dr. Elizabeth Olivet checked her watch as the elevator doors opened. The hall way leading to Jack McCoy's office was deserted, as was the reception desk beside his door. Olivet knew he was anxious to meet before going home, but the last minute patient she had worked in had taken longer than she had anticipated.

"Jack, I'm sorry," she began after tapping on the door.

"Liz you know our new EADA, Mike Cutter," McCoy asked waving aside her apology as he offered her a chair.

"Yes, we spoke on the phone this afternoon," she replied bracing herself for what she knew was coming next. "I know neither of you are happy about me testifying for the defense in the Waxman case Jack, but defense counsel came to me after the voodoo science Mr. Cutter tried to pass off as fact this morning. I have no choice but to refute data that is not only nonsensical, but potentially dangerous."

"I respect your position Liz , but were trying to convict a murderer here."

"Then do it with evidence and not a study that is flawed at best," she retorted. "The idea that there's no harm in a doctor seducing a client…an underage one at that… please."

"Catherine Waxman is using you to support a bogus defense," Cutter interjected bluntly.

"And you're using bogus science to prosecute her," Olivet shot back defiantly.

"The defense can refute our expert's testimony with another expert," McCoy said with a sigh, already knowing where the conversation was going. "It doesn't have to be you. You work for our office. That fact will add more weigh to their argument. You know me, Liz. If you take the stand tomorrow, I have to come after you."

Olivet looked down at her hands, as she shook her head at the irony of the situation. She'd known Jack McCoy long enough to know defying him professionally, friend or not, meant anything and everything the prosecution could get its hands on to discredit her would be fair game.

Given the fact Catherine Waxman was a victim of rape at the hands of her psychiatrist, albeit the man had married her years later, if was a safe bet McCoy would use Olivet's own rape to try to claim her professional judgment was tainted by her efforts to help another victim of sexual assault.

Olivet glanced up and meant McCoy expectant eyes with a look of contempt.

_Fine,_ she thought bitterly. _It's public record. It won't be the first time this office used my rape to further its own ends… _

"Do what you have to do, Jack and I'll do what I have to do," she said as she reached for her purse.

"Liz, you understand …the gloves will come off if it comes down to that," he said holding her gaze.

"I know how you operate Jack," she said shifting her gaze to Cutter. "See you in court."

McCoy silently swore as he watched Olivet walk out the door. As much as he'd hoped to avoid burying his friend and colleague, her reaction was the one he'd expected all along.

"The fact that Dr. Olivet is a rape victim herself could be used to discredit her testimony," Cutter began cautiously. "Do you want me to use it Jack?"

"No," McCoy said firmly, as he reached into his bottom drawer. "Not that. There's something else."


	27. Chapter 27

By the time Jack McCoy reached for the bottle of scotch on his kitchen counter, the DA was already well on his way to being three sheets to the wind. Muttering in disjointed fragments about things like duty, disloyalty, and the overall state of the world; it was no wonder his sleeping wife wasn't sleeping for very long.

"Jack," Brooke whispered as she reached across the bed; her eyes still unopened.

As she felt the opposite side of the bed, the muttering that had a woken her continued. Eventually she grudingly opened her eyes and reachrf for her robe. In the short time they had been married, Brooke had seen her husband pleasantly plowed more than once. What she hadn't seen before was a man so drunk that he could hardly stand up; a man oblivious to anything but the drink in his hand and his own incoherent diatribe.

Brooke enjoyed her liquor every bit as much as her husband enjoyed his. But standing beside the bookcase in at the edge of the living room, the smell that radiated from her husband was anything but pleasant to her in her pregnant state.

"Jesus Jack, what did ya do? You smell like a damned distillery," she said impatiently, as she went to open a window.

"I stopped at Clancy's for a night cap," he said deliberately slow, smiling as he finished knowing he hadn't slurred a syllable. "God you look gorgeous. Have I told how much pregnancy becomes you, Mrs. McCoy?"

"Have I told you how unbecoming_ you are_ when you drink like a fish," she countered, slipping out of his embrace and moving into the kitchen. "Damn it Jack, it's after two. I waited up to talk to you about-"

"Oh come on Brookie cut the old man some slack," McCoy said before grabbing the counter top as he tripped over his own feet.

Brooke dropped the coffee pot she'd been filling into the sink and lunged forward to steady McCoy.

"God Jack, you're a mess," she snapped in exasperation.

_Of all nights to go on a bender, you have to choose this one,_ Brooke thought irritably as she guided a reluctant McCoy towards the bed.

Although she knew something must have set McCoy off badly for him to have come home in such a state, she was distracted by the chain of stressful events that had occurred in the course of her own day.

It was bad enough she had allowed the embers of her relationship with her ex-husband to be stirred up, but to have her boss discover it made the situation so much worse. Then, to blurt out her feelings about her miscarriage to Sam Prescott -feelings she knew were irrational and irrelevant at this pointin their lives. That was a whole other disaster in itself.

_Thank God Liz Olivet was saint enough to work me in when I called her or I would have lost what was left of my sanity,_ Brooke thought as she unbuckled McCoy's belt just before he grabbed her and fell back first onto the mattress.

"Damn it Jack, let me get your clothes off before you pass out!"

"Trust me, getting my clothes off won't be a problem, love," he said softly as his hands ran over her breasts, before focusing on the short row of buttons on the front of her nightshirt.

"You're too drunk to even think about sex. Don't start what you can't finish, "she warned.

She could hear his quiet laughter as he finished with the buttons and began to caress her body. Annoyed and disgusted, Brooke started to pull away. But the feel of his lips on hers gave her pause. Much too her surprise, his kiss was tender and gentle, as was his touch. Despite her irritation, she found her body responding to him in kind.

Another surprise was how good the scotch on his breath tasted, inspite of its effect on her just minutes before. She found herself drawing his tongue further into her mouth, as she moaned with pleasure and pulled him closer.

"Do you want me to stop," he asked breathlessly, arrogantly already knowing what her response would be.

"Damn you Jack," she whispered as her fingers reached for his zipper. "You know there's going to be hell to pay tomorrow."

McCoy nodded as his roguish grin disappeared as he met her steady gaze.

"More than you can image love," he said somberly, as his mind returned to the image he'd used nearly a fifth of scotch to block out. He shook his head, trying in vain to clear the image of Liz Olivet's disappointed stare from his mind. "More than you can image."


	28. Chapter 28

The next morning was a blur of activity for Brooke McCoy. With an early executive board meeting in Islip, in addition to preparing for her showdown in court with Sam Prescott that was scheduled for the next day, Brooke had little time to do more than give her hung over husband a dirty look and hand him a bottle of aspirin before dashing out the door.

For Jack McCoy, even the sweet but vague memory of love making from the night before couldn't distract him from the guilt he felt from knowing what Elizabeth Olivet would face in court later that day. Even the head splitting that was flirting with becoming a full blown migraine couldn't block out his feelings of frustration and regret.

_Damn it, I have nothing to feel guilty about…it's not as if I didn't warn her_, McCoy thought as he traded the bottle of aspirin for his prescription bottle on the bedside table. _Liz is a grown up. If she'd rather blow a murder case than listen to me, than she's getting what she deserves… No one asked her to confide in me…no one told her friendship would get her a free pass … _

Choking down a pill with the glass of water that had been left on the table, McCoy fell back on to the pillows, eyes closed. The memory of the night of Olivet's revelation was vivid in his mind's eye.

_They had just returned to his place from dinner. Not a working dinner; a candles and linen table cloth dinner at Jacques. He'd worn the dark blue suit Olivet said made him look dashing and dangerous. She'd worn her hair up and her white silk camisole low; the black crepe suit jacket a deceptive camouflage during their business lunch with Jamie Ross earilier in the day._

_It was the night their cautious flirtation would turn into something more. It was the night she would become his first lover since Claire Kincaid._

_They had been sitting on his sofa; working on finishing the bottle of cabernet McCoy had bought for the occasion. As the conversation continued to become more intimate, Olivet gave him a knowing smile._

"_So Jack," she said as he poured the last of the wine into her glass. "How long do you intend to dance around the real reason you asked me to come up tonight?"_

"_When have you ever known me to dance," he countered._

_After setting the bottle down, McCoy leaned back on the sofa. Scratching his head, he leaned back, resting his arm on the sofa back. As expected Olivet took his invitation and moved closer._

"_At the risk of spoiling the moment, you've been dancing since you lost Claire, Jack. Dancing as fast as you can to avoid moving on without her."_

"_I guess I can't blame a shrink for wanting to shrink me," he said with a sigh as he loosened his tie._

"_You're doing it again," she said gently teasing him as she ran a hand through his hair._

_McCoy had found Olivet intriguing from the day they'd first met. She was breathingly beautiful and sharp enough to keep him on his toes without breaking a sweat. Had he not have already been involved, he would pursued the bright and witty psychologist without a second thought._

_When Kincaid died, it hadn't been McCoy that made the first move. Olivet had waited a respectable amount of time before the lunch invitations began. McCoy assumed she was being kind. Taking pity on a man who was obviously in a downward spiral._

_At first, he resented being what he perceived to be, the object of her pity and said so. Much to his shame, Olivet had informed him he wasn't the only one who had suffered a recent loss and that although her loss was not a loss by death, it was one that had caused her great pain. _

_Olivet went on to awkwardly admit that she herself, had found McCoy intriguing and had she not been involved at the time of their meeting would have been more than interested to pursuing a relationship with him._

_Given that the timing had been off for them since day one, it seemed to her that misery loved company. So why couldn't they be miserable together and see where might lead?_

"_You know better than most what will happen if I stop dancing, as you call it," he replied bluntly as his hand began to caress her shoulder. "God Liz, you know I want you. You also know my track record. You've seen firsthand what happens when I get close to a colleague."_

"_I'd hardly say either of us has kept our relationship strictly professional, would you," she pressed, as she reached for his tie and pulled him to her._

_McCoy kissed her. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last time. He could feel Olivet leaning back as his lips traveled down her bare neck. Soon he was on top of her. Holding her. Her arms around him, while she whispered encouragement, as his lips traveled from her neck to the bodice of her camisole._

_He was enjoying the moment. Olivet had begun to bring out a side of him that he had locked away since Kincaid's death. Yet, McCoy still felt the need to reluctantly break away._

"_I'm sorry Liz," he said as he tried to catch his breath. "It's not you. It's me. I'm just not sure you realize how much things can change when a colleague becomes a lover. It-"_

"_I know better than you think Jack," she said with surprising understanding._

_McCoy waited as Olivet brushed her loosened hair out of her face and smoothed her skirt back down after sitting up._

"_Anyone I know," he asked, leaning back against the opposite arm of the sofa. McCoy realized his curiosity outweighed both his manners and his desire._

_Olivet blushed as she reached for her wine glass. After several seconds, she drained the glass and cautiously looked at McCoy over the rim._

"_Off the record?"_

"_Unless you tell me you shot the SOB when things went south," he said with a wiry smile. "Come on Liz," he said with encouragement as she hesitated. "I've slept with four subordinates. I'm hardly in a position to judge you or anybody else."_

_Maybe it was the liquor. Maybe it was the fact she knew far more of McCoy's secrets than he did hers. Maybe she just didn't really see the danger in it, but Olivet met his inquiring gaze as she took a deep breath._

"_I slept with Mike Logan."_

Mike Logan? That hot head that was stupid enough to hit a city councilman,_ McCoy silently screamed._ My God Liz, were you drunk or does tall, dark, and irresponsible do it for you?

"_Mike Logan," McCoy repeated, keeping his tone and expression neutral. "Not the kind of man I'd expect you to fall for. But this isn't even close to the stuff I've pulled with my assistants."_

"_Jack," she said intently, her face betraying her vulnerability. "I slept with Mike Logan while I was seeing him."_

"_Seeing him?"_

"_Seeing him as a patient," she explained uncomfortably. "After he lost his partner – Max Greevey. The department ordered Mike to attend grief counseling before they'd let him return to work."_

"_He was your patient and you began an affair with him," McCoy said more to himself than to Olivet._

"_Well, not for long," Olivet said as she shifted uncomfortably. "You know how I feel about doctors sleeping with their patients. It's not only unethical, it has the potential to do irreversible harm to the patient, not to mention the obvious imbalance of power in such a relationship."_

_McCoy reached for her, mmediately regretted his words. He could see in her eyes that Olivet already regretted telling him about Logan. A revelation he knew had to be hard enough for someone like Olivet to make without McCoy's unsolicited commentary._

"_Liz, I didn't mean to imply," he began as she slipped from his embrace. _

"_I referred him to another therapist the morning after," Olivet interjected as she reached for her jacket and stood._

"_You're right," he said taking the suit jacket and carefully her pulling it over her arms."I _do_ know how you feel. Obviously, sleeping with a patient isn't something you'd take lightly. It's certainly not something you'd make a habit out of. As opposed to the way I've pursued… I'm not judging you Liz. For the record; Logan was lucky to have you."_

_Olivet leaned back slightly as McCoy stood behind her and tenderly wrapped his arms around her._

"_Yes, he was," she said with a quiet sigh. "So are you."_

"_Are you sure this is what you want," he asked as she turned to face him. "You're sure, after the callous ass I-"_

_Olivet smiled warmly up at him, her hands holding the back of his neck._

"_Being a callous ass is part of your charm, Jack."_

McCoy sighed heavily as the sound of the snooze alarm going off brought him back to reality. As he hit the button, McCoy took note of the time. Migraine or no migraine, he knew Olivet was the first witness up. That meant Cutter's would be cross examining her that morning. That meant McCoy needed to be in his office and ready for the fallout by noon.

_Wonder how charming you're gonna find me today Liz_, he thought as he wearily moved from the bed. _Wonder whether I'll even _have_ an ass left…callous or not…after the chewing it's bound to get from you_…


	29. Chapter 29

Brooke wiggled her nose as she reread the card that had been attached to the bouquet of roses. After returning from a round of morning meetings Brooke had entered her office and found the bouquet of assorted roses, garnished with McCoy's now traditional green carnation signature, next to the stack of pink messages slips on her desk.

"Either someone was very, very bad or someone was very, very good last night," Jake Cohen said as he walked in the room.

Brooke hesitated in giving her response as she thought about the events of the previous evening. Although still annoyed by her husband's unexplained behavior, she was equally beguiled by her husband's unexpected ability to be such an attentive lover with his blood alcohol level well above the legal limit.

"Both," she said briskly as she looked inquiringly at the ADA. "Something doing?"

"Actually, I had a little time between dispositions and motion hearings, so I thought I'd come see if we were on speaking terms," he said anxiously as he sat across from her. "I'm sure by now you've figured out who talked Sam into pressing you about the miscarriage. Brooke, you know-"

"I know," she said quietly. "Jack put you between a rock and a hard place. Worse. He put you in between not only myself and him, but Sam as well. I'm sorry you ended up in the middle, Jake."

"I won't say it was fun, but you know he was just looking out for you," Cohen explained. "Maybe going to Sam about the miscarriage wasn't the smartest idea, but Jack was just looking for a way to relieve the stress-"

"You were right the first time," she said bluntly. "It wasn't a smart idea. It opened up things that should have been kept closed and forgotten. But that's not your fault, Jake. What's done is done."

Cohen looked at his friend expectantly, aware of how carefully chosen and vague the words of her statement had been.

"We're not just talking about the miscarriage, are we Brooke?"

Brooke ran her tongue nervously over her teeth as she tapped the small card against the desk. Talking with Elizabeth Olivet had helped Brooke to put her series of exchanges with Sam Prescott into perspective. But talking with Olivet hadn't changed the fact Brooke had not only dumped a hurtful load of baggage on her ex-husband, but she had allowed their flirtation with the past to go to a dangerous extreme. A fact she had intended to share with her husband, had he not come home too drunk to see straight.

"Nope. But before I fill you in, I need to talk to Jack and I need to set things right with Sam," she replied firmly. "I don't mean to shut you out, Jake. Believe me, I wish you could fix this one, I really do."

Cohen nodded in quiet understanding as he stood.

"You know if I could I would."

"I do."

"But since I can't, maybe Sam and Jack can."

"Actually, I need to fix it on my own, Jake. At least that what the good doctor thinks."

"The doctor," Cohen said with puzzlement. "Now I know you haven't had a chance to see Janine Connelly's partner, so …"

"No, I meant the shrink Jack sent me to have the kidnapping," Brooke explained. "I went to see her yesterday and as much as I hate to admit it, Dr. Olivet made a lot of sense."

"Olivet? Dr. Elizabeth Olivet," Cohen said intensely as his eyes widened.

"Yeah. Why? Don't tell me you've been to see her, too?"

Cohen shook his head as he a came around to the computer beside Brooke and began accessing the internet.

"Brooke, did you know she was testifying in Manhattan today?"

"Jake, she works for the DA's office," Brooke replied the confusion. "The woman testifies all the time."

"Yeah, well this time she was biting the hand that feeds her and managed to get bit herself. Take a look at the headline under regional reports."

Brooke slipped her glasses on and set the card down, as she peered at the computer screen. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she read the words: _Doctor Admits Dalliance with Patient in Open Court._

_888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888_

"Jack!"

McCoy turned to face her with a feeling that was close to relief. He had been in his office all afternoon, waiting for the other shoe to drop after Olivet's cross examination had been completed. Setting his helmet on the seat of his motorcycle, he turned to face Elizabeth Olivet.

Standing there, anyone that didn't know her would have found Elizabeth Olivet to be cool and calm, professional and aloof looking. But McCoy knew better.

"Betraying a confidence is below the belt, even for you."

"Liz, I warned you what might happen if you went ahead with testifying for a woman who shot her husband in cold blood," she said as she looked at him with eyes filled with disillusionment.

Sadly, it was a look with which McCoy was quite framilar.

"And you can live with that? You can live with taking something not only told to you in confidence, something you know doesn't compare to the damage that idiot that calls herself a doctor tried to pass off as science-"

"If that's what I have to do to nail a killer," he said indifferently. "So be it."

Olivet shook her head in disgust, before giving him one last disapproving look.

"Not your finest hour, Jack," she said softly as she turned to leave.

"Not yours either, Liz," he stubbornly countered as he picked up his helmet, only to realize the only thing he was in any condition to do was to pace as he shook his head in disbelief.


	30. Chapter 30

By the time Jack McCoy made his way home, his wife had finished the final prep work she'd needed to do in order to be prepared for her hearing in federal court scheduled for the next morning. As he walked into the loft, McCoy was pleasantly surprised to smell the familiar scent of his favorite Chinese takeout selections, which he found spread out on the kitchen counter once he closed the door.

After coming home the night before intoxicated, he assumed Brooke would be standing right behind Liz Olivet in the line to chew his ass that night. Instead, he found himself greeted with a kiss and thank you for the flowers he'd sent earlier in the day.

Guardedly he returned the kiss before inspecting the items on the counter.

"Well, are you going to look at it or eat it," Brooke asked playfully, as she handed him a plate.

"I want to see you eat it first."

Brooke cocked her head, as she did a double take upon hearing her husband's words.

"And why, may I ask?"

"Because after the stunt I pulled yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to poison me," he said with surprising gravity. "God knows you wouldn't be the only one tonight that would like to see me – if not dead – at least suffering."

"Please, don't flatter yourself," she said as she shoved a plate into his hands. "You are hardly worth being convicted of murder. You know the cops always look at the wife first."

"Yeah, don't remind me," he said sullenly as he began to fill his plate.

"The Olivet thing," Brooke asked, remembering the background the article she had read mentioned. "Come on Jack,your office had information that helped the case against Catherine Waxman. You had to use it; it's not like you had a choice."

"Liz doesn't see it that way," he countered as they sat down. "Actually, I'm the one that told Mike where the bodies were buried."

"You? How would you know who Liz Olivet was sleeping with," Brooke asked curiously.

McCoy looked up from his plate and leaned back in his chair while he sighed as if carrying the weight of the world. After his confrontation with Olivet, as well as the remaining effects of his binge from the night before, McCoy wasn't sure if he had the strength to reveal the details of his relationship with Olivet to anyone; especially to his wife.

Before he could decide on a course of action, the security buzzer sounded by the door.

"Expecting any one," Brooke asked as she moved towards the door.

"Just the hit man Liz has probably hired by now."

After a brief exchange, McCoy heard his wife invite whoever was on the other end of the buzzer up.

"Should I get another plate?"

Brooke shook her head as she turned to face McCoy.

"I don't think so. That was Mike Logan. He said he wanted to come up, that what he had to say wouldn't take very long."

"I _told_ you she was sending a hit man," McCoy said as his eyebrow furrowed wearily.

"Jack are you going to tell me is going on with you or…," Brooke began. As the details of the article about Olivet – notably the part about her sleeping with an unnamed NYPD officer while he was a patient of hers- came to mind her eyes grew wider. "Oh God. _Mike Logan_ is the unnamed cop?"

"Just let me handle Logan," McCoy responded as someone knocked on the door. "I'll explain it all after I get rid of him."

"Forget it Jack," Brooke said as she slipped between her husband and the front door. "Mike won't hit a pregnant woman, so just back off and let me talk to the man."

Before McCoy had a chance to argue, Brooke opened the door, immediately putting herself between Logan and her husband.

"Arrogant son of a bitch," Logan said by way of greeting as he stormed into the loft. "Did he tell you what he did? Did this guy you think is so noble, so selfless…did he _tell_ you how he sold out a woman who trusted him just to win a damned case?"

"Mike, I'm pregnant," Brooke said calmly as she took care to keep herself between the two men. "I'm pregnant and any undue stress could hurt the baby, so I need you to calm down or leave."

Logan broke dagger throwing staring match he and McCoy were engaged in when he heard the word 'pregnant'. Shifting his eyes downward, Logan shook his head as he gave her a hug.

"If the father was anyone but this bastard, I might be able to say 'congratulations' and mean it, Brooke. Right now, the best I can do is to wish you good luck. As for stress, until you leave this son of a bitch, stress is all your life is going to be filled with."

"That's enough Logan," McCoy interjected as he reached for his wife, who reluctantly found herself behind her husband.

"Jack, please-"

"No, let him talk Brooke," Logan demanded, immediately putting himself nose to nose with McCoy."I'd like to hear how he thinks he can justify violating the trust of not only a woman he slept with, but a woman he's worked with for almost twenty years. A colleague and friend who helped this sorry sack get over the death of a lover as well as an assistant who'd be alive today if Mr. DA over here had ran his own case instead of-"

Logan grinned contemptuously as the blood began to gush from his nose, a split second before he returned McCoy's staggering punch.

"Still shanty Irish in spite of everything, huh McCoy," Logan taunted as his fist met McCoy's jaw.

"Still have enough juice to mop the floor you, Logan," McCoy spat back, fists clenched. "Now, get the hell out of my house before I make sure Staten Island looks like the job of your dreams."

"Try it and will see how the new DA smacking a cop around plays in the press. Unless you want to be a man a finish what you've started."

Wordlessly, Brooke watched and listened, her reactions slowed by Logan's string of accusations. It wasn't until the two men began rolling their sleeves up that she sprung back into motion; her forcefulness compensating for the numbing shock she felt inside.

"Stop it Mike," she hissed as she grabbed the cordless phone and threw the door open. "You did what you needed to do. You defended Liz's honor. You made your point. Now, either get the hell out or I'll call your commanding officer myself, after I call the local precinct and have you charged with assault. "

"Brooke, this is-,"McCoy began.

"Shut the hell up Jack," she said with equal fire. "Mike I want you out of my home now."

Giving Logan a shove for good measure she began to dial.

"9 1 1 doesn't take long Logan. Now _go_!"

"How can you protect this scum, Brooke?"

"This scum is still the father of my child," she snapped as she slammed the door and turned to face her husband.


	31. Chapter 31

"I don't need you to fight my battles with Mike Logan or anyone else, Brooke,"McCoy irritably snapped.

"And_ I_ don't need to hear my husband's sexual history from an irate cop," she shot back bluntly. "You want to tell me how you could to send me to Liz Olivet for counseling and neglect to mention she was your _lover_?"

"You and Sam had just signed your divorce papers when you started seeing her. You hadn't even gotten over the shock that Sam was still alive. You were a mess," McCoy countered defensively, as he moved towards the refrigerator. "Then the kidnapping happened. You needed someone skilled in dealing with trauma and there's no one else I know that's better skilled than Liz Olivet. Whether or not she and I had a relationship is irrelevant."

"Maybe to _you_," Brooke snapped back, as her pulse began to race. "_You're_ not the one telling the woman some of the most intimate and private things that happened in_ your_ life."

"That's why they have doctor patient confidentiality," he said shortly as he began fashioning an ice pack for his jaw.

"Are you serious," Brooke responded incredulously."After what you did to that woman? You honestly think anything is off limits after you discredited her in open court with information about her sex life that you obtained while_ having_ sex with her? This is a first, Jack. No one's ever had cause to call you for naïve before."

"You say that like you disapprove," he countered, while ignoring her final remark. "Do I need to remind you were talking about a murderer here?"

"Come off it Jack," Brooke said with calmness that took her husband by surprise. "We both know the defense could just call another expert to make their point. Hell, we both know you could have just omitted the information about Olivet's private life and if Mikee Cutter's case was any good, the evidence would have stood on its own. _God_," she added contemptuously. "Using a study that promotes sex between 'consenting' minors and adults as non-damaging! What the_ hell_ were you thinking anyway?"

"I was thinking that it's incomprehensible that someone who knows the danger in supporting a murderer's case was going to go ahead and support her anyway," McCoy stubbornly replied as he glared at his wife. McCoy glared because as right as his wife was about the study, he still believed the ends had justified the means. He also glared because it was easier to keep the battle going than to have to stop and think about the internal battle between his own conscious and McCoy's obssessive desire to win; a battle that had been going on since Olivet had left his office the day before.

"This isn't about any moral right and you know it," Brooke demanded as she stood inches from her husband, stubbornly making him meet her accusing gaze."This is about control. Abuse of power."

"Abuse of power," McCoy repeated as the ice pack slipped from his hands. "You really believe that?"

"It's not what I believe that's so troubling, it's what I _can't_ believe. I can't believe you'd go this far to win a case. Maybe a case against a serial killer or a mobster, but an emotionally unstable woman that killed the man she'd been seduced by as a child?"

"He was her husband long after she reached the age of consent," McCoy countered with indifference he knew she could see right through. McCoy met her glare with one of his own. "This isn't about Catherine Waxman. This is about Liz Olivet having something on you that your afraid is going to come out due to my actions, isn't it Brooke?"

Brooke snickered softly, as she gave into her bodies demand for relief. Lowering herself into one of the chairs around the table, Brooke could see her hands had begun to shake. Closing her eyes she willed her herself to take a breath, to relax.

She could feel McCoy's eyes on her as he waited for her answer. He could wait until hell froze over for all she cared, given the bomb Mike Logan had just dropped on her.

When she opened her eyes, McCoy was sitting in front of her. The ice pack back against his jaw, his eyes grudgingly showing a trace of concern.

"You're a funny man, Jack McCoy," she said as she reached for the glass of water in front of her.

"You didn't seem amused a few minutes ago."

"For your information, Liz Olivet is the reason I was waiting up for you last night," Brooke said after gulping down the contents of the glass. "I'm the reason she was late to your meeting last night."

McCoy's eyes widened slightly. When Olivet called to tell him she'd had a last minute patient who needed to be worked in, McCoy had no idea she had been talking about his wife. _Typical Liz_, he thought with a bit of shame. _She'd never violate privilege by telling me who the patient was…she'd never break a confidence of any kind, for any reason…_

"What happened that you needed to see your therapist so urgently?"

"Well for starters, I finally did what you wanted. I told Sam what selfish son of a bitch he was, not only faking his death, but daring to be alive after I lost our child," she said wearily; her face betraying her own feelings of remorse. "You'd have been proud of me Jack. Went right for the jugular, left the man barely standing by the time I stopped talking."

"How did Sam react?"

Brooke took another breath as she looked down at her unsteady hands. Given the laundry list of stressor the couple had thrown at one another in the last twenty minutes, Brooke had the presence of mind to resist adding one more to the mix.

"How do think," she finally responded as she looked back up at her husband.

"I know it couldn't have been pleasant for either of you , Brooke. But you slept better last night than you had in weeks."

"Wow," she said with renewed dismay. "And I thought felons were good at justifying the unjustifiable. How the hell would you know how I slept? You were drunk on your ass and don't tell me that was because you suddenly had an uncontrollable need to drink a fifth of scotch just to see if you could. You felt guilty, Jack. There's only one reason you came home like that. You felt guilty because you knew telling Cutter about Liz and Mike Logan was wrong. It's just you and me, Jack. My God, why can't you just admit it's eating you up inside?"

When McCoy failed to hold her gaze, Brooke knew she'd been right. She could see his mask of defiant indifference begin to crumble as he stared down at the chestnut flooring.

"You're right," he said softly without looking up. "As much as I believe I had no choice, hurting some like Liz isn't easy for me to stomach. Neither is that fact I let you down last night."

"Oh Jack, we let each other down," she whispered as she reached for his hand.

McCoy shifted his gaze from the floor to his wife; his remorse replaced in part by a look of puzzlement.

"Not only did you keep me from mopping the floor with a NYPD cop and not only finishing my career, but spending the night in Rikers, you didn't throw my drunk ass out when I took you to bed and-"

"Jack, don't even try to go there," she said sharply as she stood and came around to his side of the table. "Neither of us did anything we didn't want to do last night."

McCoy nodded as he stood as well and allowed her to wrap her arms around him.

"I hope that's true, but I still don't understand why you think you let me down. What am I missing, love?"


	32. Chapter 32

"_Tell him Brooke_," Liz Olivet had urged after Brooke had recalled her furious confrontation with Sam Prescott._ "Jack understands better than most people the consequences of letting a person's passions run away with them."_

_Yeah, I guess Liz knows that_ much_ better than I ever imaged,_ Brooke thought as she ran her hands over her husband's shoulders. Shoulders that she could see were weighed down by more than his share of worries. Shoulders that felt so solid, so reassuring… so much like the shoulder's of another man she found her hands on twenty four hours before.

"_Maybe if I'd been there, you wouldn't have lost the baby. You blame me for losing the baby? How the hell can you say it was my fault?"_

"_Maybe if you were dead like you're supposed to be, our baby would be with its father and not be all alone. How the hell could you come back and leave our baby alone?"_

_Brooke's hand flew up to her mouth in a futile attempt to take back what she knew she couldn't._

_Scanning his face for evidence of the damage she knew she had done, Brooke was flabbergasted to see only the prosecutor's trademark tell; the slightest of nods and the briefest of flickers in his steady gaze. Both signs Prescott had successfully gained the information he had been seeking all along._

"_Damn you Sam," she said realizing she had been manipulated into their confrontation as a means for him to get her to reveal what had been troubling her._

_As her hand flew up, Prescott skillfully used it to pull her to him. _

"_You slippery son of a bitch," she snapped as she tried to break free of his embrace. "Damn you for making me hurt you."_

"_Come on Mal," he said as he pressed her to him, a hand stroking her hair. "Just let it go. All of it. Once and for all."_

"_No," she said as sobs choked her throat. "There's no point. It's done. It's over…"_

"_Darlin' we may not be together," he countered tenderly while running a hand over her tears and as he gazed knowingly into her eyes. "But you know as well as I do, we'll never be 'over'. Not completely. What do you think that kiss the other night was really about, anyway?"_

_Before she could answer, Prescott slipped his hand behind her neck and leaned down._

"_I'll always love you Mal," he whispered as his lips met hers._

_Brooke held on to Prescott as if her life depended on it. The regret, the guilt, the misery of all the years they'd been apart rising up and overwhelming her senses as she returned his kiss._

"_God I'm sorry,"she sobbed as the flood gates opened for both of them as they clung to each other. "I'm sorry I lost the baby. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough-"_

"_Darlin' don't," he said as he continued to shower her face with kisses. "You're one of the strongest people I know. You'd have done fine if I'd been there when I should have been. You have every right to blame me for what happened. For all of it."_

"_I just couldn't bear to think of our baby alone," she whispered, her tone pleading, as she held his face in her hands. "I know it sounds crazy, but it was the only comfort I had…imaging you with our child. Holding our baby, loving it, protecting it…God Sam it was the only way I could keep a thread of sanity…don't think I'm not grateful everyday that you're alive."_

"_Honey, I know that," he said with a reassuring smile that made her laugh with relief. "Lord girl, sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself."_

"_You always did, Sam. You always did. That's one of the many reasons I fell in love with you," she said softly before kissing him in a way that should have sent up red flags, bells and whistles, and any other warning signs her mind could throw up. _

Looking into the inquiring eyes of her current husband, Olivet's words echoed insistently in the back of her mind.

"_Tell him."_

"Brooke, what is it? What am I missing love," McCoy repeated as it became clear she had misgivings about responding. "Whatever it is, I doubt it's anywhere near as damning as what I put into motion with Liz."

As much as she wanted to tell him….needed to tell McCoy everything… the heartbreaking misery already in her husband's eyes made such a revelation impossible to make.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't," came the predictable response that brought a smile to both of their lips. "Oh Jack," she breathed as she weighed her options. "I think we've both had about as much as we can handle tonight. I'd much rather get some more ice on that lip of yours before it swells up so much you have no hope of hiding it tomorrow morning. I do want to tell you, but not now. Not tonight. After the Waxman verdict comes down. I promise."

McCoy began to move his lips, automatically ready to plead his case, but the weariness in his wife's face made him pause.

"This doesn't have anything to do with your health or the baby, does it? Because if it does, you need to tell me Brooke. Otherwise-"

"Nothing to do with my health or the baby's, "she said firmly as she glanced over his shoulder at the take out cartons on the table. "Although, the baby would feel much better if Mommy and Daddy took a breath and let baby decide if it likes Chinese."

"Well, never let it be said I stood by and let a child of mine starve," he replied with a chuckle.

"Yeah, between the morning sickness and Thursday night at the fights, we're in danger of wasting away here," Brooke joked as she turned to take her seat, only to have McCoy reach for her arm.

"Hey, does this mean the baby forgives me for punching Uncle Mike?"

"Like you care," she said with a smirk.

"I love you, you know that?"

Brooke smiled up at her husband and pushed her doubts about waiting aside as she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Prove it," she countered as she moved towards the table. "Talks cheap McCoy. Will see how much you love me when we get down to the last egg roll."


	33. Chapter 33

Danielle Melnick Prescott finished knotting her husband's tie, stepping back to inspect her handiwork.

"You look like a winner to me, counselor," she said approvingly as she watched him glance in the mirror before reaching for the last of his morning coffee. "Let's see. Dark blue pin stripes, your 'lucky' blue and yellow stripe tie,oh wait. Don't forget your 'lucky' tie clip.'

Prescott smiled at his wife's amused tone as she reached across the dresser and slipped the shiny gold clip onto his tie.

"Make fun if you want, but I guarantee Mal's got her 'power' suit pressed and ready to go along with her 'lucky' Susan B pin."

"Sounds superstitious to me."

"You know as well as I do, attitude plays a big part in masterin' courtroom presence," he countered as he kissed her quickly before reaching for his briefcase.

"Sam, it's not like you two are going up against each other in a trial," she reminded him. "It's a motion hearing. A pretty straight forward one, from what I've read in the paper. Frankly I'm surprised the Suffolk county DA doesn't just hand this case off to you. After all, these clinic bombings are terrorist acts. They go across state lines. That's clearly in the realm of the states attorney's office, not the local DA."

"I agree honey," Prescott said with a sigh. "But this one is personal. For Michael as well as Brooke. That's why I need to be on my toes this morning. I know good and well Mal has instructions to do whatever it takes to keep this case in Michael Jackowicz's jurisdiction."

"Well when you two finish, you might want to mention to Brooke that Neil Simon revival is opening next week. I know Jack is chomping at the bit to see it. Maybe the four of us could get tickets and make an evening of it?"

"Darlin' why don't we let that ride a bit," he said uneasily as he paused in the doorway. "From what I've seen of Mal's mornin' sickness it seems to be a twenty four hour thing. Maybe you and I should go and wait for the next openin' before we ask Mal and Jack to join us?"

"If you're sure," Melnick replied cautiously as she followed him into the living room. "You know Sam, I'm beginning to wonder if you've had some sort of falling out with Brooke or Jack that you haven't mentioned to me. Ever since you and Brooke got into it at the restaurant, it's like you're avoiding those two."

Prescott looked up from the sink where he'd set his coffee cup and ran a hand over his ear, immediately regretting the move when Melick's eyes narrowed.

"Darlin' dealin' with my ex-wife in the courtroom, as well as socially durin' a case is just somthin' I'd rather not do," he said making a calculated attempt at appeasing his wife's curiosity. "Isn't that understandable?"

"Well, I suppose," Melnick conceded reluctantly. "But you said yourself, you've enjoyed being back in the Islip office-"

"I have, but bein' in Manhattan has its advantages, such as affordin' me the opportunity to have lunch occasionally with my wonderful wife," he said before kissing her full on the lips.

After exchanging hurried goodbyes, Prescott slipped out the door. The elevator door hadn't even closed before he was silently engaged in a heated debate with his conscious.

While his practical side argued that he hadn't outright lied to his new wife, Prescott's conscious quickly reminded him that omission of facts was as good as a lie, especially to someone as straightforward as Danielle Melnick.

Yet, going into detail regarding his dealings with Brooke McCoy seemed to serve no other purpose other than to hurt and confuse a woman that seemed to be happy and content. Neither Brooke nor Prescott had any notion of making dramatic life altering changes. What had happened had happened out of an emotional bond…out of extraordinary circumstances. Not out of any desire to recreate the life they both knew no longer existed or to embark on some disastrous sexual liaison …some kind of backdoor affair that suited neither of them.

While Prescott couldn't deny how much he enjoyed the rounds of verbal sparring that went along with vying for a case with his ex-wife, as well as the intense physical reaction he had when he found himself in proximity to Brooke, he sensed the origin of his feelings. A source he doubted his wife… his wife to whom marriage was still a very new situation to find herself in… had the experience to fully comprehend.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Danielle, I doubt very much that you are able to comprehend the simple fact that I want to be left alone right now, so I won't bother telling you to leave. But, if you're here to lay into me about what happened in court yesterday, you'll have to get to the back of the line and wait your turn," McCoy declared as his old friend unceremoniously sat down across the table from him.

"What happened in court yesterday," Melnick repeated with feigned innocence. "Why would I blame _you_ for that hideous display that harkens back to the days of the inquisition? Using someone's sex life to discredit them on the stand, now I know that's something you'd not only _never_ do your self Jack, it's something I know you wouldn't tolerate anyone in your office orchestrating. I just want to know who you plan on replacing Cutter with?"

McCoy shot Melnick a snide glare as he looked up from what remained of his burger and fries.

"Stop it Danielle."

"What do you mean, Jack? Oh," Melnick exclaimed, as she dramatically slapped her forehead."I remember _now_. Cutter was just following orders, wasn't he, Jack? Cutter hasn't been around long enough to develop the kind of misguided trust Liz Olivet would have to have had to tell someone, someone in the DA's office no less, about something not only so personal, but potentially lethal to her own career."

"News travel fast on the courtroom gossip circuit," McCoy said drily as he obstinately focused on his meal. "Given how Ron Carver's mopping up part forty eight with you, I'd have thought you'd have better things to do than listen it."

"Actually, I heard about it on the news last night," she said, smiling as McCoy face gave her the reaction she'd hoped for. "Yes, Jack. That little stunt went well beyond the walls of Centre Street. I wouldn't be surprised if Olivet receives a summons from the medical board to explain her lapse in judgment. Trusting you will probably get her a reprimand for her trouble, if they don't revoke her license to practice altogether."

McCoy stared at his friend, at first in disbelief; then with shame as he realized that what she said was probably true. Even though Olivet could document sending Mike Logan to another therapist immediately after her relationship with him became physical, even though Logan himself would be the first one ready to defend her actions, McCoy knew with the rise in complaints of this sort in recent years, the medical board would be inclined to error on the side of caution. The board would be afraid of not only lawsuits, but that patients were falling victim to unscrupulous practitioners, as well.

"I wanted to keep a murderer off the streets. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Liz," McCoy said miserably. "If there'd been another option, I have taken it."

"Oh Jack. This DA thing has made you lose sight of the larger picture," Melnick said with surprising sympathy. "There's always another option."

"God Danielle. I got it with both barrels last night: Literally from Logan. Figuratively from Brooke. I really don't need you adding your two cents."

"Logan?_ Mike_ Logan," Melnick asked quizzically, as she noticed the puffiness around McCoy's jaw line for the first time. Thoughtfully she ran her hand over his face, as she nodded with understanding. "You know you had it coming, right?"

"No one filed any charges," he retorted as he reached for his iced tea, while playing with the idea of ordering something stronger. "Now, that you have your pound of flesh maybe you can leave me in peace?"

"Come on Jack, you know me better than that," she said as she patted his shoulder. "You know I love you, even though you really piss me off sometimes. Olivet's the same way. Give her time. With any luck, the medical board will have so many malpractice claims to sort through she'll get off with a written reprimand and everything will blow over."

"God I hope so," he said softly, as he met Melnick's gaze. "Hurting Liz was the last thing I intended to do."

"Come one, Jack. Hand wringing doesn't suit you, especially after the fact. You knew what you were doing. You knew what could happen."

"I wish you'd decide which cop you want to play," McCoy said with an exasperated sigh."Listening to you bounce from good cop to bad cop to good cop again is more exhausting than just having you call me a son of a bitch and being done with it."

"As much fun as it is to be your conscious, I _did_ have something else on my mind when I decided to join you," Melnick as she dipped one of his fries into the blob of ketchup on his plate. "Is something going on between our spouses that I don't know about?"

"Probably so," McCoy said as he nodded, his mind immediately focusing on the confrontation between Prescott and Brooke that McCoy himself had had a hand in arranging. "I know the child they lost came up after their meeting yesterday. I know it was a difficult conversation for both of them. Sam didn't say anything?"

The way Melnick's eyes suddenly averted his, giving McCoy his answer.

"Danielle, I doubt this conversation will ever in anyway be relevant to a murder trial," he said with a shy smile. "You can trust whatever you say won't go beyond this room."

Melnick laughed inspite of her worries and reached across the table to slip a fry into his mouth.

"My revelation won't be nearly as … interesting… as Olivet's was. Sam figured out Brooke either consciously or unconsciously held him responsible for that miscarriage not long after he came back to New York," she said carefully. She nodded as McCoy's eyes widened in surprise. "Hate to tell you Jack, but that little ambush you thought you set up was just the opportunity Sam had been waiting for to clear the air."

"You knew that and you didn't say a anything?"

"Come on Jack. This is my marriage were talking about here," she responded defensively. "I may be new to this whole marriage thing, but I'm not stupid. When Sam feels comfortable enough to confide something like that to me, the last thing I'm going to do is run and tell his ex-wife's new husband. Besides, you're the one that set him to Brooke in the first place. Obviously, you wanted Brooke's feelings about the miscarriage out in the open. You got your wish, so quit complaining."

"I suppose I did," he admitted as he shrugged his shoulders. "I did what I did because the new baby is bringing it all back up for Brooke, Dani. The pregnancy's going to be difficult enough without her losing sleep over things she can't change. That's why I asked Jake to have Sam talk to her. It was never about anything else."

"Sam figured as much," Melnick confided as she reached for the last of the fries. "That's why he pushed her so hard."

"Okay, now I'm confused. If you know he talked to her…if you know he pushed her…you're already one step ahead of me. With all the crap flying last night, all _I_ know is they talked. If you already know the outcome, why are you asking me if something's going on?"

"Because it's finally out on the open and Sam's more evasive …more anxious to put distance between himself and Brooke than he was after they had that blow up at Gino's," Melnick persisted. "I know I'm missing something, Jack. The question is do you know what it is or are you missing it too?"

McCoy began to answer just as the waiter interrupted, cordless phone in hand.

"Mr. McCoy, your office is calling."

After the briefest of discussions with Rubrirosa, McCoy returned the phone to the young man and asked for the bill.

"The jury for the Waxman trial is coming back. By the time I get to the courthouse Cutter should have his verdict."


	34. Chapter 34

It seemed to Connie Rubirosa the courtroom had cleared faster than usual. By the time she had retrieved her files and laptop, she found that only Mike Cutter and herself remained in the room.

"Alone at last," Cutter offered awkwardly as he looked up from his BlackBerry. "Lynn just pmed me. She tracked Jack down at lunch. He's on his way over here now."

"Congratulations. Given what this verdict cost him, I'm sure Jack will be pleased you won."

"_We_ won Connie," Cutter replied sincerely. "This is your win every bit as much as it is mine."

"If it had been up to me there wouldn't have been a win. Not in court. I would have plead Catherine Waxman out using our expert's report as leverage."

"You'd have settled for Man One when the report made Murder One a slam dunk?"

"What made Murder One a slam dunk was discrediting Dr. Olivet," Rubirosa said bluntly as she met his confused gaze. "If I'd been the lead on this case that never would have happened. Neither would admitting that piece of crap that we passed off a 'expert' testimony."

Cutter's eyes widened that the unusually salty comment coming from his assistant.

"I really don't feel like celebrating, Mike. Although," she added as she turned back from the gate between the prosecution's table and the gallery to face him. "At least this case I know we won based on the evidence, not based on the impression I made with the jury."

Rubrirosa almost felt sorry for the EADA as his expression gave away the regret he still had after allowing a juror's misguided infatuation with Rubirosa go unreported to the trial judge in their last case.

Cutter had tried after that case, as well, to coax his assistant into letting him take her for the dinner he had promised her after they had brought the McCoy's wedding gift. Part of her was flattered that after so many rebuffs, her supervisor was still willing to make the effort.

They both knew Cutter was taking a risk. Given some of the decisions both Cutter and McCoy had made in the last few weeks, Rubrirosa knew if she turned around and declared the repeated dinner invitations 'sexual harassment', a lawsuit could easily fly.

Only Rubirosa knew better.

Working with Jack McCoy the year before his premotion had taught her it wasn't harassment she was dealing with. She was dealing with McCoy's need to prove himself. She was dealing with the same thing from the man filling the big shoes McCoy left in the office across the hall.

"Connie, wait," Cutter said as he impulsively reached for her arm; automatically releasing it as she stared down at his unwelcome hand. "Listen. I've felt like a jerk ever since Jack told us not to go to the judge on that case and you know it. If I could go back and change how I handled your concerns, I would. But I can't. You have every right not to want to have dinner with me, to want keep thing strictly professional. I respect that, but I'd at least like an opportunity to clear the air. That way we can both feel more comfortable and that will making working together a whole lot more pleasant."

Before Rubirosa could respond the door to the courtroom opened and Jack McCoy looked at the pair expectantly.

"It's a win Jack. Guilty on both counts," Cutter said as Rubriosa slipped back to the prosecutor's table. "Sentencing to be two weeks from today."

As the two men discussed sentencing recommendations, Rubirosa hurriedly scribbled a time and address on the back of one of her business cards, before discreetly passing the card into Cutter's suit pocket as she inched passed both of them.

Meeting McCoy's inquiring gaze she shrugged.

"Sorry Jack, I need to get the paperwork down the clerk's office. I hope this win is worth what you lost to get it," she said without bothering to stop as she strode briskly out of the courtroom.


	35. Chapter 35

When Brooke McCoy strode into the courtroom Sam Prescott was already sitting at one of the two tables in front of the bench, briefcase open and eyes on the file in front of him. Brooke smiled to herself recognizing his 'battle gear' the moment she laid eyes on the blue pin stripes.

_Something's never change_, she thought as she extended her hand and wiped the grin from her face.

"Afternoon counselor, preparing to lose, I see," she primly.

"Is that a fact. I thought you we're-," Prescott's voice trailed off as he took in the Pooh Bear and Friends maturity dress and matching jacket that his ex-wife had exchanged her 'power' suit for. Prescott's eyes narrowed as his friendly smile melted into a snide smirk. "You are a piece of work, you know that Mal? Why didn't you just rent a baby to hold in your arms while you argue the devastating loss the defendant has perpetrated on the women and children of Suffolk county by taking the life of a woman devoted to the care of said women and children?"

"Sounds like someone's been reading my summary draft," she said equally cocky. "Maybe you should just drop the case, Prescott. You know, save yourself the embarrassment of losing to a lowly local ADA like me, while you still can."

"Let me tell you somethin' young lady," he said with quiet amusement, as he leaned closer."You can drop the baby right here in the courtroom and I'll _still_ be the one walkin' out of here with a win. Let's face it Mal, even if I wasn't gonna out lawyer you, this one is a clear cut case of federal jurisdiction outweighin' local jurisdiction. I can already link the good Mr. Kane to three other clinic bombings outside of Suffolk county. Even if you bring in every patient Janine ever treated, the judge is gonna see it my way."

"_You_ think your gonna out lawyer _me_? Looks like Danielle's taught you the meaning of huspa. But if it helps, just keep telling yourself that Prescott, for all the good it'll do ya. You may have the case law memorized, but so do I, as well as every precedent contrary to each case you plan to cite."

Prescott chuckled at the familiar pre trial banter. He was relieved to see the scene from the day before hadn't seemed to have a lasting effect on his former wife. Knowing he was risking overplaying his hand, yet curious to see what her response would be, he held her gaze and leaned a bit closer to ask her one final question.

"Is it safe to assume the loser- that would be _you_, darlin'- will be buyin' the winner the lunch of his choice when were through here?"

When Brooke reacted by giving him pitying look that held the faintest trace of humor, he knew what her answer would be.

"If you still feel like eating when we walk out of here, I'd be happy to dine with your sorry ass. I just hope we don't max out your American Express card."

Prescott chuckled and started to reply when the noise behind them made him stop and turn.

"Oh lord. You're pullin' out all the stops out, aren't ya, darlin'," he said with a sigh as the courtroom began to fill with individuals wearing tee shirts that ranged from _'It's a Child not a Choice'_ to _'Keep Your Laws off of my Uterus'._ Each of the two distinct groups finding sets behind the county's prosecutors, while leaving a row between them.

Brooke shrugged her shoulders and strode back to her table. She knew planting discreet and untraceable notices of the hearing would bring out the activists in Islip in full force. Connelly's practice had been at the heart of the abortion wars in Inslip for almost twenty years. Even with the battle lines drawn, it was clear that those who cared about the issue wanted to see the accused tried within the countys jurisdiction.

Connelly's supporters wanted to see justice done, first hand. Connelly's vilifiers wanted to support the individual responsible at last shutting down the 'institution of death' as they saw her clinic.

"Brooke," Prescott hissed as he motioned for her to return, as the bailiff entered the courtroom. "You know half these fanatics will want to string you up right along with Connelly if you take this case to verdict and the jury finds Arnold Kane guilty. When we leave, we go out the judge's exit. No press conference on the courthouse steps. Understood?"

"How do you think they feel about you," she countered. "If this goes to the federal system, you could seek the death penalty. They know that. Why do you they these clowns are sitting on my side of the aisle any-"

"You leave with me or you leave with a court officer, but you don't leave the courthouse alone," he demanded in a tone that left no room for further banter.

"All rise," the bailiff instructed.

"Brooke?"

Brooke met his determined gaze and quickly nodded as she returned to her side of the aisle as Judge Regina Barkley entered the courtroom.

The judge didn't try to hide her surprise as she looked curiously at the local prosecutor, then at the unusually full courtroom.

"Before we begin, I want to make it clear that this hearing is only to determine the jurisdiction in which defendant Arnold Randolph Kane will be tried in. If there is any other matter those observing in the gallery wish to address, this is not the appropriate venue. I want to be very clear. Anyone who attempts to disrupt these proceedings will be cited for contempt and the court room will be cleared. Have I made myself clear?"

The leaders of each of the groups stood and took their turns assuring the court that, in essence they would behave themselves and would pursue no other agenda during the hearing.

"As for this venue motion," the judge began as she glanced at the paperwork in front of her."Mrs. McCoy? The domestic terrorism statues are very clear. The district attorney's office still wishes to present oral argument, despite the current case law in this issue?"

"Your honor, the Suffolk county district attorney's office does not dispute the states attorney's office having jurisdiction over the conspiracy charges against the accused. The people simply wish to have to opportunity to move forward on the murder one and reckless endangerment charges against Mr. Kane prior to the federal prosecutor removing Mr. Kane from Suffolk counties jurisdiction. Once the people Mr. Kane most recently injured via the outcome of his murderous conduct, have been give the opportunity to seek justice, our office would support the states attorney in any way we can."

"That would be an offer I would consider generous and fair, your honor, except for the fact that Madame Prosecutor is well aware that the federal case takes priority over the case of the district attorney's office," Prescott countered in his most courtly tone. "No matter how impassioned the plea otherwise is; whether it comes from the district attorney's office or from the community."

Prescott's words brought a short round of predictable dissent from the gallery, which came to an immediate end, once the judge gave the participates a steely stare.

As the debate wore on, both sides cited cutting edge case law; the pair swiping citations as fast as a high school student could swap crib notes during a test. The judge nodded and made her notations, finally calling an end to the barrage of legal arguments and declaring a recess so she could review her notes and render a decision.

As Brooke made her way towards the doors at the back of the room. A portly man she recognized as a bishop from the local archdiocese motioned for her to come closer.

"It's been a longtime, Brooke Ann. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were actually representing the churches interests in this case, my child."

Brooke gave the man who had just been starting his career the year Brooke took her holy communion a sideways look as she bit back a smile.

"You win some you lose some Bishop," she said with a trace of a smile. "You've been around long enough to know why you lost me."

"Ah, souls that are lost, always have the chance of being found again," he said with a smile of his own. "Congratulations on your pregnancy, as well as you marriage. I received Father MacFadden's paperwork from Canada early last week."

The stunned look on Brooke's face was enough to make the older man forget his reserved facade and break into a grin, while Prescott came up beside them and placed a protective hand on her arm.

"Everything all right here," Prescott asked carefully.

"Right as rain," Brooke managed to choke out as she frowned at the delighted twinkle in the bishops eyes. "Just because I said I'd raise this baby in the church doesn't mean I won't be sure to provide a healthy balance between dogma and fact where the church is concerned, Father."

"I'm sure that's true," he said with a wink as he reached for the door handle. "But I chose to take the fact you and Mr. McCoy have recommitted to the church, at least for the sake of your child, as a sign that other steps towards a return to your fauth might follow."

"Father, one question if I may," Brooke interjected as the three of them left the courtroom. "I live in Manhattan now. How did your parish come by the papers we signed in Canada?"

The Bishop's grin deepened as he leaned in to answer.

"You know how the churches operates, Brooke Ann," he deadpanned. "We're all part of one big conspiracy to control the secular world."

"You bitch," the young woman in a 'Pro-Choice Pro-Death' tee shirt demanded as she tried to push past Prescott, as Brooke warily eyed the Bishop. "How can you be carrying a child and think what Arnie did deserves a jail sentence? You're as evil as that baby killer that died in the fire. You don't deserve to be a mother."

"Officer," Prescott called out as he stood his ground between the two women.

As the court officer approached another woman, this one in a 'Right to Life, Your Names a Lie' shirt waved her finger under Prescott's nose as she stared disapprovingly at him.

"What kind of bastard thinks pleading down a killer is the right thing to do? If you gave a damn about the women of this town you'd back off and let the people that loved Janine Connelly seek the justice she deserves."

"I can see why your office wants to hang on to this one, Mal," Prescott said as two court officers began to clear the crowd. "The fun just keeps coming with these folks."

"Excuse me, Mr. Prescott. Judge Barkley heard about the disturbance and suggested that I show you and Mrs. McCoy to a more private location. She said she should be ready to make her decision within the hour."


	36. Chapter 36

Once the pair found themselves alone in the conference room adjoining the judge's chambers, Brooke went through the ritual of checking her voice mail and accessing her email while Prescott sat at the other end of the sofa patiently observing her.

"Let me guess; the CIA found somethin' on our guy and now the World Court wants a piece of ole Mr. Kane, as well," Prescott offered when Brooke began to snicker.

"Sorry to disappoint you Sherlock," she replied as she put her phone in her pocket. "As much as I know you'd like a reason to plead your case at The Hague, this message was about a Manhattan case, not this one. Cohen sent me a text to let me know the Waxman verdict was guilty on all counts. I hope that'll enough for Jack to be able to live with what that case cost him."

Prescott smiled knowingly as he looked away. The night before, Danielle Melnick had expressed her own disapproval, as well as disappointment, regarding McCoy's actions in the Waxman case. Although Prescott had kept his opinion of McCoy's 'dirty tricks' as Melnick called them to himself, Prescott had to admit he felt a tinge of sympathy for the DA.

Using the'expert' testimony McCoy had, as well as turning on someone close to him to achieve the required remedy, was something Prescott didn't relish. But it was something he understood after years of not only dealing with career criminals, but finding himself on the run because of one. The federal prosecutor knew in any criminal case the bottom line had to be keeping the accused off the street, regardless what the personal price might be to do it.

"Danielle," Brooke asked as she figured out the reason for his smile.

"Yep. She wasn't too happy with your husband last night. I'm sure you weren't as well. How,ever since McCoy_ is_ your husband, I guess it's safe to admit to you that _I_ think he did the right thing."

Brooke sighed as she leaned back on the sofa. The only thing she found surprising about Prescott's remark was how it showed her once again, how similar her former and current husbands could be.

"So Danielle discussed Jack with you, did she? What about you, Sam, "she asked by way of changing the subject. "Did you discuss me with Danielle? Specifically, did you tell her about these strolls down memory lane we've been taking the last few weeks? Strolls that include us doing things other than strolling, that are grounds for divorce in forty of the fifty states?"

"Lord Mal, you make it sound like we abused farm animals together or somethin' equally alarmin'," Prescott said rolling his eyes. "Don't make this more than it is."

"And what _exactly_ is it when you find yourself in your former spouses arms after you've not only divorced, but remarried, as well," she asked, knowing it was a question she herself wasn't fully sure of the answer to.

"Honey, Judge Barkley isn't gonna be long. Are you sure you wanna do this now?"

"Samuel," she said leaned closer. "Don't beat around the bush with me. You know I don't make a habit out of kissing men other than my husband, As far as I know, you don't either. Just because we haven't gone to bed together doesn't make what we've done 'okay' and you know it."

"First of all, I don't make a habit out of kissing _men_, period, "he said, unable to resist a final attempt at humor."_That_ would be Jake's department."

"Johnny Carson you're not, honey," she shot back impatiently. "Are you stalling because you're as confused as I am and have no idea what to say or are you stalling just to be annoying?"

"Neither," he said with sudden seriousness. "As enticin' as I find any woman who wears Pooh Bear and Friends to court, it's not my intention to hustle you off to bed or off into the sunset, for that matter. You made your feelin's about that clear a long time ago."

Brooke nodded in agreement, torn between relief and even deeper confusion. She was relieved to hear that Prescott had not misinterpreted her passionate response to him as an invitation to begin some ill fated affair. A move she was certain neither of them had the desire to pursue, muchless the stomach to live with.

Her confusion stemmed from the genuine pleasure she was sure they both had experienced during these encounters. She felt a deep sense of disloyalty to her current husband, especially when the single encounter on the street turned into yet another, even more intense meeting in Prescott's office. Yet Brooke had to admit, she looked forward to her courtroom battle with Prescott.

"You know, I _was_ going to wear a cute little Piglet number, but I didn't think you could handle it," she said suggestively, after leaning back to ponder his statement.

"Piglet? Wear that and I won't be accountable for my actions," he countered. "Listen, don't think I wouldn't sleep with you in a heartbeat we were both free. And I mean _free_, Mal, not just alone. I told you before, I wouldn't have married my sweet Danielle Rose if I didn't love her. I know you feel the same way about ole smilin' Jack."

"Yeah, I do," she said as her mind recalled the last time she and her current husband make love. Had any other man including Sam Prescott, tried to have her as drunk as Jack McCoy had been that night, Brooke would have been disgusted and repulsed. Yet seeing the need; the vulnerability in a man who so often kept his feelings hidden safely behind his wall of arrogant indifference made McCoy irresistible in her eyes.

"So what are you saying Sam? That what we've been doing is…what? Some sort of outlet?"

"You know, when I married my second wife, I learned a lot about love," he said as he moved close enough to slip his arm around her shoulders. "When I left New York I dreamed about you every night, thought about you all day long, and never thought I'd look at another woman, much less marry one. But, I did. I found happiness again, but that doesn't mean I stopped lovin' you. When I came home and found my self back in your life, I knew I still loved you, but that didn't mean I loved Ellie less."

"I understand that. You know what I went through when you left," she said softly as she leaned into his embrace. "As deeply in live as I was with Jack, it took us both a long time before we even discussed marriage. It wasn't that I didn't love him, I just didn't expect to get a second chance…I never thought I could have anything close to what we had together, Sam. Yet…"

"Yet you're devoted to Jack," he said without malice. "I saw it the last time we had dinner with you and the Stone's. It wasn't the first time I saw it; it won't be the last. He makes you madder than hell, but you'd fight like a lioness protecting her cub if anyone tried to harm him. "

"Yet this feels very right Sam," Brooke admitted as she rested her head on his shoulder."Too right."

Prescott sighed as he nodded. As savvy as he knew his former wife was in matters regarding all things legal, it amazed him how innocent Brooke could be in the ways of human relationships.

"Darlin' it's not like we fell out of love nor had a nasty parting of the ways. I suspect it's always gonna feel right to hold you, as well as-"

Before he could finish the bailiff opened the door. After the young man recovered from the sight of the pair looking more like close friends than opposing counsel, he announced the judge was ready with her decision.

"Mal, let's just set this aside for now. You'll buy me lunch at The Chop House when we're done here and we can clear the air then. But frankly knowin' you, I suspect the best person for you to get an answer you'll accept is Jack, not me."

"Jack," she said in amazement.

"Yep. Jack's been married before. I guarantee he knows what I'm talkin' about. 'Sides, you know you it's just a matter of time before that man gets this out of you anyway," Prescott said as he held the door open for her. "You McCoy's are a tenacious bunch."

"You think I should talk to Jack about this? What makes you so sure he'd understand this? Will Danielle?"

"Darlin', Danielle would understand this about as well as you would have the first time you became a wife," he said bluntly. "Oh, she'd make all the right noises, but it would hurt her. It would hurt her deeply. I'd feel the same way if I hadn't been through this before with Ellie. Trust me, Jack's gonna understand better than you do right now. Just talk to the man."

Brooke pondered Prescott's words as they entered the courtroom. Just before he reached for the gate, she nodded and rested her hand on his forearm.

"Agreed, except we'll be lunching at Brennan's, not The Chop House," she said with a catlike grin. "The loser – that would be _you_- picks up the tab. The winner chooses the place, remember?"


	37. Chapter 37

Brooke silently swore after she looked down at her swollen feet.

As careful as she had been about what she ate, being on her feet throughout the course of the day had resulted in not only a nagging feeling of fatigue, but the dreaded swelling she had been warned about during her last visit with Janine Connelly.

After slipping off her flats, Brooke moved towards the bed and began stacking pillows to elevate her feet. When she finished, she turned towards the bathroom. She stopped suddenly, when she caught a glimpse of her reflection from the dresser mirror. Having forgotten she was still wearing the colorful maturity dress, she studied the image with a thoughtful smile.

"Well, at least this outfit bought me a seat on that sardine can they call the Long Island Railroad," she mused as she ran a hand lovingly over her stomach. "Too bad the big, bad Fed managed to beat Mommy in court today, huh baby? Oh well maybe, after you're born, you'd do Mommy a favor and spit up on the bad man's favorite suit? Yeah, just thinking about that makes Mommy feel better. How about you, little one?"

Brooke continued to smile as she thought about the life growing inside her. Despite the odds, despite the warnings and possible ramifications Brooke indulged herself and imaged McCoy and their child together; hoping that the miracle of her pregnancy would lead to a second miracle by resulting in a healthy happy mother and child.

"Brooke," McCoy called out as he closed the front door and looked around the empty living room.

Spotting the discarded briefcase by the coat rack, he started towards the bedroom.

"Hi honey how was your day," Brooke asked brightly as she ignored the amused smirk on his face while she moved to give him a peck on the cheek.

"I thought you had court today," he responded, while he raised an eyebrow as his eyes continued to take in the sight of his wife in her maturity attire.

"Oh that's right. You were still asleep when I got dressed this morning," she said as she turned around to model her outfit. "What do you think Mr. District Attorney? Do I get an A for effort?"

"And they say _I'm_ the one that will do anything to win a case. How did your outfit go over with the judge?"

"Better than my oral arguments," she said while she headed for the bed and propped up her feet. "She ruled in Sam's favor. The case will be heard in federal court. The up side is he promised the murder charge would stand no matter what else he had to use as leverage. Sam said he'll make sure that bastard does the max for Janine's murder."

"Will that be enough for your boss," he asked as he alternately took each foot in his hand and studied them carefully.

"Yeah. Michael joined us for lunch. He admitted we probably should have let the case go without a fight. He knows better than to let to personal feelings color his professional judgment,' she said thoughtfully. "Some would say that's something Michael could learn a thing or two about from you."

"I thought I was a ruthless bastard his friends can't trust as far as they can throw him. Mad dog McCoy who 's willing to stoop lower than low just to win a case."

"That's you alright," she said as she ran a hand through his disheveled locks."Maybe that makes you a better public servant than most of us, Jack. I bet you'd have taken one look at the facts of this case and called the Feds yourself. It really _was_ a slam dunk for Sam. I just didn't want to admit it."

"Don't be so quick to put me back up on a pedestal, Brooke," McCoy said solemnly as he massaged her foot. "I've had my share of fights with the States Attorney's office. When Alex Borgia's murderer was up for trial, it wasn't easy to just walk away from that fight."

"I know that. I remember you talking about the case. I'm not saying you're flawless Jack. I'm just saying maybe you did what you had to do in the Waxman case. Congratulations, by the way. I thought you might be out celebrating with Mike and Connie."

"Connie isn't in much of a mood to celebrate and Mike was anxious to get out of the office on time for once, "McCoy said as he looked up from her feet. "I don't want you to think I'm obsessing, but you're really swollen, Brooke. Have you thought about calling one of Dr. Connelly's partners just to be on the safe side?"

"Janine warned me about this the last time I saw her. If the swelling doesn't go down by morning, I'll opt out of the nine a m staff meeting and go down to Memorial without a fight. Even Manhattan General, if that would make you happy."

"It would," he said brightly as he gave her a grin. "You seem to be in an unusually compliant mood this evening. Dare I push the envelope and ask you if you're ready to tell me about what's been on your mind the last few days?"

Brooke slowly nodded her head, reassured by Prescott's prediction of McCoy's ability to understand her dilemma, as well as hoping McCoy would have the insight she lacked into the complexities of the relationship between former spouses.

"Dare away," she said at last, as she patted the place beside her on the bed.


	38. Chapter 38

When the cab pulled up at the address his assistant had slipped to him, Michael Cutter felt for a moment like he did when he'd felt a twinge of apprehension. Instead of arriving at the brownstone or an ultra modern apartment building as he assumed Connie Rubirosa would live in, the young man found himself standing in front of a Midtown eatery called Corazon y Flores. The establishment that was a far cry from the upper west side legend he had intended to take Rubirosa to that evening.

While the interior wasn't what one would call upscale, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. Cutter could smell wonderful aromas coming from kitchen while his eyes scanned the dining room for his assistant.

"Mike, in here," he heard a familiar voice call out from the lounge.

As he turned he could see Rubirosa waving to him from the bar. She looked even more beautiful in casual attire than she did in the professional wear she chose for the office.

"I hope you don't mind a change in location," she asked anxiously as the bartender and cocktail waitress move to join the couple.

"If you're more comfortable here than at Twenty One, then I'm comfortable too."

"Consuela, where are your manners," the older man behind the bar demanded feigned gruffness. "Aren't you going to introduce us to this young man?"

Cutter looked oddly at first the man, then Rubirosa who seemed unusually unfettered.

"Mike, this is my cousin Emilio Mendoza and my second cousin Carmen Rubriosa," she explained as she turned to the bartender. "Emilio, this is my boss, Michael Cutter."

As the three exchanged the usual pleasantries, Mendoza explained that he had recently opened the third in his chain of eateries; the Midtown location being the newest the newest addition to the restaurants he'd opened in the Village and Chelsea.

"Since Consuela works downtown, I've been trying to get her in here for weeks to give me an honest opinion of my new cook's creations. When she agreed to come down tonight, I had no idea she was passing up dinner at Twenty One to do me this favor."

"We can do Twenty One another night," Cutter replied as he glanced at Rubirosa. "I feel privileged that Connie not only accepted my invitation to dinner, but that she's willing to honor me by introducing me to members of her family."

"Leyla never brings boys around the family," the younger woman commented with a grin, as she watched her cousins face take on a glow. "You must be very special Miguel."

"Michael," Rubirosa countered sharply while she glared uncomfortably at her cousin. "His name is Michael, Carmen."

"Carmen," Mendoza interjected sternly while tossing a pile of cloth napkins towards her. "This is Consuela's boss. You'll call him 'Mr.Cutter' or nothing at all. Make yourself useful and finish folding these napkins. You're here to work, not to embarrass your cousin."

"Emilo, I know Mike's been on the run all day," Rubirosa said as she stood. "He's probably as hungry as I am. Maybe we should get this taste testing started?"

"Of course, if Mr. Cutter is sure he wouldn't like something from the bar first," Mendoza asked as he looked expectantly at Cutter. "The house sangrias is made from a family recipe. It's very nice, if you're a wind drinker?"

"Sangria sounds like a great start," Cutter replied. "But I'm afraid Connie's right; I haven't eaten since breakfast. Maybe I could try the wine with dinner?"

"Of course, of course," Mendoza said as he led them towards the dining room. "A wise choice on your part Mr. Cutter. Never a good idea to drink on an empty stomach."

"Please; the District Attorney – Jack McCoy- is really Connie's boss. She and I work as more of a team. I'd be much more comfortable if you called me Mike."

"As you wish Mike and I am Emilo," Mendoza said as the pair took their seats.

Cutter watched as the burly man returned to the bar to get their drinks. Noting that Mendoza could easily have been mistaken for a heavy weight champ, as opposed to a local business owner, Cutter vaguely hoped Rubirosa had either kept her belief that Cutter had 'pimped' her out to herself or had at least put a more tactful spin on it.

As if reading his mind Rubirosa smiled and placed a hand on his arm.

"I like to keep what goes on at the office separate from what goes on at home. That's really why Carmen's comment irritated me so much."

"I've noticed you keep what's private, private. That's why I'm surprised – pleasantly surprised – you asked me to meet you here tonight," Cutter said with a warm smile. "Your family seems like good people, Connie."

"Thanks. I'm glad you're not disappointed," she said shrewdly. "If you like Latin food, I know you'll enjoy what Emilo has in store for us. But I realize you're more of a Westside kind of guy. Don't be offended, but letting my supervisor buy me what would have no doubt been a two hundred dollar dinner, just to thank me for picking the right gift, doesn't feel right."

Cutter nodded as Mendoza returned with the sangria. Even when he'd made the offer, Cutter had suspected flashy eateries and expense meals weren't his assistant's style. Suggesting dinner at Twenty One had been a foolish attempt to impress a woman he had come more and more to find down to earth.

As the evening progressed, Cutter found the assortment of traditional and 'fusion' Latin dishes mouth watering. Each item seemed even more delicious than the last. When Emilo brought out the dish he named ' Shrimp Consuela' at the end, he could see his dinner companion's eyes light up as she dug into the baked seafood.

"If you like seafood, there's a place off the LIE you'll have to let me take you to sometime. The Fishtrap has the best cioppinio on the east coast."

"Humm. Cioppino is one of my all time favorite things. When I was in law school, I used to wait for a good sale at the fish market and then I'd make a big pot for the dorm," Rubirosa replied. Suddenly her relaxed manner seemed to shift as her eyes clouded while she shifted uncomfortably.

"Connie?"

"You know Mike, it probably isn't a good idea for us to make a habit out of this," Rubirosa said as she played with the stem of her wine glass.

"Because we work together or because you're not having a good time," Cutter said in a tone that was neither accusatory or confrontational.

Rubirosa looked down at her napkin before she replied. _Not having a good time? Is he serious,_ she wondered. _How can anyone _not_ have a goodtime with a guy like Mike Cutter?_

"We don't just 'work together' Mike," she pointed out as she looked up. "Despite what you said to my cousin, you _are_ my immediate supervisor."

"Connie, I meant what I said to your cousin," Cutter said. He felt almost relieved to finally have the opening he was looking for to begin the main reason he had pursued a dinner with Rubirosa so hard."Yes, technically I'm your supervisor. But practically speaking, we're partners Connie. I trust your judgment as much as I would if you were the one with the Executive in front of your title. That fiasco over that juror made me realize how much I do value your opinion."

"It sure didn't look that way to me, Mike," she retorted, as she made one of her legendary faces. "we both know, even if Jack hadn't walked in and made the decision for us, you'd have ordered me not to go to the judge about that guy. Even knowing how much it bothered me, you wouldn't have risked a mistrial just to appease me."

Cutter had given that argument more thought in the last month than he had any of the closing arguments he'd written for court in that same time frame. Yes, he wanted that guilty verdict, from that jury. No, he didn't want to risk a second trial and having evidence or witnesses disappear or become compromised.

Yes, he'd trivialized what he could see now were his 'partner's' legitimate concerns in almost the blink of an eye.

"I'm not Jack, Connie," Cutter said earnestly. "I'm still new to the game in major felonies. Yeah, I wanted to score another win, basically to impress the boss. But, just because I made that mistake once doesn't mean I have to make it again. That juror could have been a slime ball. After you told me he approached you on the street, it finally hit me the risk I was taking with your safety by not pointing his interest of not out to the judge at least to you. Even if Jack didn't agree, I'd never let that happen again."

"Jack agrees? The way Jack's been acting lately I don't think he'd care if the guy had turned out to be a serial killer, as long as Jack could point to another win."

Cutter could hear the faintest bit of disappointment in her voice. He knew in the time she'd worked with McCoy before his promotion, Rubirosa had developed almost a father/daughter rapport with the charismatic older man.

The fact McCoy had so bluntly dismissed her reservations had to have cut Rubirisa to the quick.

"You're wrong Connie," Cutter replied with certainty that made Rubirosa sit up and look across at her companion more intently. "We both know what the Waxman verdict cost Jack when he put that case before the feelings of Dr. Olivet. Even though he isn't about to talk about it with me, he did call me in to talk about what happened with you."

"When? Not right after the case? He was so wrapped up with his own agenda, not to mention worrying about his wife since they found out she's going to have a baby-"

"No, not right after," Cutter said as he reached to fill their wine glasses. "I came in early and Jack was already in his office. Between you and me, it was obvious Jack was hung over. It was just the two ofus. To make a long story short, he told me about what happened to the assistant of his you replaced. What was her name?"

"_Borgia_," Rubirosa said uncertainly. "Jack talked to you about Alex Borgia?"

Rubirosa's eyes widened as Cutter nodded while taking another bite of her meal. She knew McCoy rarely discussed his relationships with his former assistants. McCoy had shared the story of Alex Borgia, the assitant that had been brutally murdered once and only because Rubirosa had felt silly telling him about the threat a defendant had made against her in arriangment court a few weeks after she became his assistant. McCoy kept his comments brief, but his grief and guilt were obvious, which made his remarks even more sorrowful to Rubirosa.

"Connie, the last thing that man wants is for something to happen to you like it did to Alex Borgia," Cutter said solemnly. "The bottom line is; both Jack and I know that not only did we act unprofessionally by taking the decision out of your hands, we inadvertently put you at risk," he continued as he reached for her hand. "If something had happened to you because of it, neither one of us could have lived with ourselves. Neither of us is about to make that same mistake twice."

Rubirosa looked down at the hand that made hers seem so small and delicate by comparison. Listening to Cutter's surprising words; words that held so much sincerity made the young woman also sorry for staying angry at Cutter for a long as she had. Although her hand felt pleasantly warm and secure in his, Rubirosa deftly slipped her hand onto her lap.

"Don't you need that for your 'gadget'," she said, trying to bring a lighter mood back to their conversation. "I think this is the longest I've seen you go without checking your BlackBerry."

Cutter smiled back at his assistant. If he didn't know her better, Cutter would have assumed he had over stepped and possibility offended her. The strategy Rubirosa regularly used when she felt uncomfortable or unsure was recognizable to Cutter immediately.

"Actually, I've had the BB sitting out all evening," he deadpanned. "Every time Emilo came out with a new dish and you two chatted, I was texting _West Law_ to check precedents for that case Jack tossed on my desk ten minutes before I was due back in court."

"You have not," Rubirosa said incredulously as she leaned over to scan Cutter's side of the booth.

As he started to snicker, Rubirosa gave him a sharp look of confusion before leaning back realizing she'd been had.

"Very funny, Mike."

"Yes, it was," he agreed as he continued to chuckle. "That's one of the things that makes working with you so much fun, Connie. Sometimes you're just too easy."


	39. Chapter 39

"Sometimes, the easiest solution is the hardest one to accept."

Brooke gave her husband a cautious look as they finished the light dinner McCoy had prepared while his wife hedged her way around his earlier inquiry about her preoccupation as of late. Unsure as to how to explain not only her confusion, but her actions as of late, Brooke opted to bring the conversation around to another issue the couple faced as well.

"You mean the solution where I say something like 'Maybe I should stay at home and be a full time mother, while you use the DA's office as a springboard to the White House'?"

"Hardly. If you weren't pregnant, I'd swear you were taking drugs, after that last statement," McCoy replied with a grin. "Not only am I too old to think about doing anything other than running for DA, I'm too honest to interest the powerbrokers that engineer political campaigns. I'll be lucky if I can hold onto the job I have for a term or two."

"Hey don't hand _me_ that 'I'm too old' crap," Brooke shot back as she patted her stomach. "Obviously, age is just a number with you. You're obviously more than capable of doing anything a younger man can do and usually, you do it better."

McCoy gave her an amused grimace as he leaned back. He knew the difficulties of career vs. parenting had been on both their minds since Brooke's pregnancy was revealed. But McCoy wasn't convinced it was the main thing that was distracting his wife. Given the events of the last several days, it had been easy for both of them to focus on concerns in the professional, as opposed to the personal, arena. McCoy was determined not to let that happen this evening.

"As much as I'd like to believe that's true, I'm old enough to know when I'm being snowed."

Given the fact his wife was still wearing the maturity dress she'd worn to court that morning, the way his Brooke looked away and then began fiddling with one of the shiny character buttons on the front of the dress, made her appear more like a child preparing to be chastised by her teacher, than the confident and determined prosecutor she was.

"You know, Brooke motherhood really does become you," he said with sudden seriousness as he stood and came around to her side of the table.

"I'm glad you think so," she replied as she took the hand he offered and let him guide her to the sofa. " When I put this thing on this morning, I couldn't help but feel like I'm a generation off. Jack, I should be a grandmother at my age, not an expectant mother."

"At least your grey is covered."

"Oh come _on_," she said as she rumpled the grey locks. "You've got that whole distinguished older man thing going on. Women still give you a second glance when you walk into a room. Me?_ I've_ got morning sickness and hot flashes. Having to put up with me the next several months will no doubt be a 'joy' for you."

"First of all, most women that give me a second glance are just ADA's who don't want the boss looking over their shoulders. Second of all , I don't 'put up' with anyone. Beisdes, you're not the one that has people coming over here just to have the pleasure of punching you out-"

"That was an isolated incident," she interjected playfully. "Most of your advisories aren't as physical a Mike Logan."

"Most of my advisories aren't as good at getting me off point as you are," he said as he shook his head. "I can go down a list of guesses if that's what you want, but it would be a lot faster if you just talked to me, Brooke."

_Yeah that what everybody keeps telling me_, she thought._ But nobody told me how to talk to you…how to explain things I can't even completely explain to myself…_

"Fine," he said matter of factly, as he sensed her hesitating yet again. "I gathered that night a Gino's you and Sam had some unfinished business. Maybe we should start there?"

McCoy's quizzical look melted into a look of satisfaction as his wife's eyes widened in stunned surprise.

"Let's just say this pregnancy has brought up a lot of memories for both Sam and me," she said at last.

"And trying to get you to talk to Sam about your miscarriage; that added fuel to the fire?"

"Yeah," she said flatly. "Like gasoline and matches."

McCoy turned the words over in his mind, trying to put the few pieces she'd parted with together.

"Brooke, you two share a history together. You shared a life that both of you were more than happy with. You were trying to get pregnant when Sam left. It's to be expected you'd both still feel a sense of loss...especially Sam… since he's only known-"

Brooke shook her head. The more McCoy tried to reassure her -to draw out more of the story- the more Brooke felt ashamed of her actions.

"I kissed him," she blurted out without warning.

This time it was McCoy's turned for his eyes to widen as he silently waited for her to continue.

"I kissed Sam and I don't mean a 'Mike Logan peck on the cheek at 2 a m' kind of kiss. I kissed Sam and I did it more than once, Jack. I'd explain it if I could, but the truth is I can't. That night you and Jake set it up for Sam and I to talk-"

"The night you told me I didn't know what kind of fire I was playing with," he asked in almost a whisper.

"Yes," she replied uneasily; not quite able to meet his eyes. "I was determined not to have that conversation, Jack. So I let the conversation go anywhere but there. We ended up talking way too much about the old days. When he dropped me off… it's not like we planned it. It took us both by surprise. Afterwards, I knew I needed to put some distance between us so-"

"So you tried to drop the Connelly case," he said as he slowly nodded. "That's why… you're remark at dinner when Sam wanted to talk to you alone. How far have things gone?"

Brooke risked a brief glance at her husband as she brought her knees to her chest. McCoy looked as she expected him to look. His face masking whatever he felt, as it did during an examination of a witness in the courtroom. She could only imagine what was going on passed his detached persona. What she imaged made her shuddered with apprehension.

Having gone as far as she had, she saw no benefit in keeping the rest to herself.

"It happened again the day I went to his office," she admitted.

"The day you two discussed the miscarriage?"

"Yes," she said as she sighed. "It was a very emotional conversation. By the time we got to the baby…neither of us was thinking clearly."

McCoy stood up and started towards the bottle of scotch on the counter and then thought better of it. Moving instead to the window, he processed what he'd heard in the last few minutes. His disbelief and anger was outweighed by his sense of fear and foreboding.

_Does she want a divorce_, he wondered. _Has she finally realized what she threw away when she decided not to try to salvage that marriage?... Everything happened so fast…too fast …I told her she didn't know what a divorce would mean…What about Danielle? God... Has Prescott even considered the special kind of hell Danielle Melnick is capable of creating? Especially with something so-_

"Jack, I can't even image what you think of me right now, but-"

"And you're telling me this because?"

"Because part of being married is sharing, Jack. Sharing the good and the bad. We both know how destructive secrets can be," she said from the sofa. Part of her wanted to go to him, to make him face her, so she could try again to read him. But, part of her feared what she would find if she looked too closely. "I wanted to tell you the night you came home drunk. After seeing Elizabeth, I promised myself I'd wait up and talk to you. But when I saw you…there was no way I could tell you that night."

At the mention of Olivet's name Brooke could see his shoulders stiffen.

"This is what you went to Liz about? A few kisses," McCoy said skeptically. "Nothing more, Brooke?"

"Isn't that enough," she asked incredulously. "Jack if you need to hear the words, I'll say them. I didn't sleep with Sam. I have no plans to sleep with Sam. I don't want to sleep with Sam. That's the confusing thing here. What I felt… yes there's an attraction there. But, we both know our time has come and gone. We both want the lives we've started since our divorce. Jack, I can understand if," she continued, she voice catching as she finished the dreaded words. "I can understand if you can't get passed this. Whether we slept together or not doesn't make this any less of a betrayal. If you want … if want to end the marriage…"

McCoy looked up sharply as he spun around.

His gut reaction was to lash out before he found himself of the receiving end of another emotional blow. But the caustic accusation he thought he was prepared to hurl at his wife remained unspoken. as he took in the look of utter misery on Brooke's face.

"How much does Danielle know," he asked wearily, after forcing himself took take a breath.

"Nothing," she responded apprehensively. "Obviously, I'm the last person that would tell Danielle something like this. As for Sam, he seems to think this is something divorced couples go through. This is Danielle's first marriage and he … well… he thought you might have a bit more insight into something like this than Danielle."

The look of utter amazement on her husband's face was the last thing she expected to see.

"The only 'insight' I have at this moment," he retorted as he strode towards the coat rack, "is that I can't be here right now."

"Do you plan on coming back, Jack," she asked; determined not to give in to the tears that were welling up in her eyes, as she watched him snatch the leather jacket off the rack and open the door. "Or should I call a lawyer in the morning?"

"I'm not your first husband," he snapped as he reached for his helmet. "I'd never run out on a child of mine. The last thing that baby needs is you to have more stress than you've already had this week. I'll call you when I'm ready to talk. I'll keep the cell phone on in case something happens with the baby, otherwise I think it's best if we leave things as they are for now."

Before she could ask where he was going, the door closed.


	40. Chapter 40

The crowd at the Island Mermaid was annoyingly vibrant. Jack McCoy made the drive from Manhattan to Fire Island in half the time it would have taken during rush hour. Although he arrived at the Ocean Beach landmark just as the Friday night party crowd was hitting its stride, after his second drink he'd had enough of the lively night life and witnessing the game that he knew so well being played out by people who were but a few years older than his first child.

Knowing the small communities reputation of vigilance against drunk driving, McCoy opted to leave the bike in the well patrolled parking lot, knowing he'd be up before sunrise to collect it.

_Sam... he seems to think this is something divorced couples go through_… that you'd have some insight...

As he walked towards the small beachfront cottage, the cool breeze whipped through his hair as Brooke's words whipped through his mind; words eventually helped his thoughts turn to memories of a time he and his first wife spent in the beachside community when they were just beginning their life together.

Just before he reached the driveway, McCoy paused to watch the waves rise and fall just beyond the other side of the highway. A smile came to his face as he thought about the many times he and a young Elizabeth Donnelly took their infant daughter down to the beach to play in the sand and to discover the delight of playing in the surf.

Although he still viewed his second divorce as an unfortunate, but natural result of a marriage that had come too soon after the death of Claire Kincaid, he viewed the dissolution of his first marriage in a much less forgiving light.

Nearly two decades later, McCoy still occasionally found himself wondering how he could have prevented the end of a marriage he'd gone into with so much hope; a union that had held so much promise.

_Something divorced couples go through_, he thought wistfully._ Only if the love hasn't died…_

As he walked towards the front door, McCoy found himself momentarily startled by the sudden bright light as the motion sensors detected his presence. As he turned the lock he reminded himself he had but fifteen seconds to punch in the security code to deactivate the alarm system.

As he reached towards the alarm box, McCoy found himself turning towards the smell of burning wood and instinctively stepping back as a baseball bat swing in his direction.

"Jack?"

"Liz?"

"I thought I had the last weekend of every month," he sputtered as he took the Louieville Slugger out of the startled judge's hand.

"I thought you had a pregnant wife that you were looking after on the weekends," she countered. "Usually if you come down on the weekends, you two end up out in Islip at her brother's place."

"I came out on my own. Very last minute," he said hastily as he set his helmet and beside the bat on the kitchen counter. "After the week I've had, I just needed to get away for the night. It's Friday night. Usually you're out of town with Cragen."

"Don's pulling overtime with his squad until they catch that serial rapist on the east side," she explained as she followed him into the kitchen. "I figured this would be a goodtime to start pulling the wallpaper in the master down. Remember, you agreed the stripes needed to go in the bedroom. After the hell I went through with that hung jury in the Mendelson case, I thought it would be good therapy, since I can't exactly rip the skin off of that idiot that wouldn't find the defendant guilty."

McCoy nodded as he recalled the debriefing Casey Novak had given him about the case. As he pulled down a glass from the cabinet, he reached for another, as he looked inquiringly at his ex-wife who nodded back.

Even with her make-up off, her hair causally tied back and clad in a sweat suit McCoy could remember her wearing more years ago than he'd ever admit, Elizabeth Donnelly looked gorgeous.

McCoy knew many found the statuesque blonde to be an imposing force. He found that fact to be a constant source of amusement. It amazed him how only a handful of people had seen through Donnelly's carefully crafted facade and missed the compassionate woman that lived behind the dry wit and scathing stare.

"If you give me a minute, I can get out of here and grab a room over at the Oceanview Inn," she said as she took the drink from him. "It _is_ your weekend. By all rites, you should stay. Although, I am curious as to how Brooke talked you into leaving her alone before she's even through the first trimester. You were such a worry wart when I was pregnant with Becky I couldn't keep you out of my hair for five minutes, much less a whole evening."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said impatiently as he followed her back into the living room. "Even if I were going to act like a typical ex-husband and send you packing, you know this is date night down here. The Inn already has it's 'no vacancy' sign lit up. Besides, you were here first. I can walk back-"

"Walk," she cut in as worry lines formed around her mouth and forehead. "I wondered why I didn't hear an engine after you popped up. You didn't walk from Manhattan. Where's the bike?"

"I left it at the Mermaid," he mumbled as McCoy busied himself with stoking the fire.

Donnelly leaned back on the sofa and watched him thoughtfully while she mulled over his explanation.

"Well, that's better than crashing it on some guard rail after one too many scotches," she said drily.

"I'm in no mood, so don't start Liz."

"Fine," Donnelly said as she watched him take a seat at the other end of the sofa as he picked up his glass. "But the fact remains, if you weren't in any condition to drive from the Mermaid to the house, you're not in any condition to drive back to Manhattan. We're both adults and this place has two bedrooms and a hide a bed. You can pout just as well here as you can in some roadside flophouse."

"I don't pout," he snapped, wearing an expression that contradicted his words.

"Fine," she said as her lips held a hint of a smile. "Then before you get completely plowed, let me show you the wallpaper I picked out. Maybe if you feel like hanging around in the morning I can get you to help me before you go back to the city."

"I should have known you'd find a way to put me to work," McCoy grumbled as he smiled inspite of himself.

Donnelly ignored him, instead reaching across the coffee table and tossing him one of the unopened rolls and she reached to turn on the light that sat on the table at the end of the sofa.

In bright light, Donnelly could see the strain that had been hidden by the firelight on McCoy's face. She knew from the papers and the courthouse gossip mill, her former husband had had more than his share of professional worries ever since returning from Canada. She also knew McCoy thrived on the pressures of the job; the next big win in court more than adequate compensation for the sleepless nights and last minutes surprises any DA worth his salt was accustomed to dealing with.

"It looks fine," he said as placed the roll back on the table. "You know I trust your judgment. Although, if you'd ruled that Novak's evidence from the defendant's apartment was admissible, maybe you'd have avoided that mistrial this week."

"And maybe if the cops had gotten a warrant first, I would have had a choice," she countered without missing a beat. "Don't try to play me, Jack. We both know you didn't expect that evidence to come in. Don't use it as a smoke screen with me. We both know your mind is whatever drove you out of the house tonight. If you don't want to talk about it, fine. Believe it or not, I do have better things to do than interrogate you about your current marriage, at least as long as you don't start up about my private life."

"I'm the last person that's qualified to comment on anybody else's private life," he muttered as he drained the glass.

"That comment have anything to do with this," she asked as she gingerly ran a finger over McCoy's swollen jaw.

Donnelly knew all was not well in paradise. She had heard from her daughter and Danielle Melnick fragments of the Vanessa Galiano story. She also knew from reading between the lines in the_ Times _article the reason for McCoy's falling out with Dr. Elizabeth Olivet. But she couldn't quite puzzle together how he might have received the faint red mark that ran along his right jaw bone.

"You don't want to know," he said as he stood up, glass in hand.

Donnelly reached for his free hand and met his quizzical gaze.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know and it's Brooke's job to put you to bed after a bender now, not mine."

"I was _going_ to make a pot of coffee," he said shortly as he started to pull his hand back. His eyebrows rose when Donnelly tightened her grip and he sighed. "Alright. Maybe I was going to make the coffee with a little Irish in it. But-"

"Who hit you and how bad does the other guy look," she said knowingly.

"If I tell you, I'll be indirectly breaking a confidence I've broken too many times already," he said as he tightened his grip and helped Donnelly to her feet.

McCoy could see the imaginary wheels in his ex-wife's mind spinning a mile and minute, as Donnelly tried to put the pieces together. McCoy had just finished filling the coffee maker with water when her eyes widened in understating.

"Oh God. Olivet's unnamed cop belted you when he read the paper," Donnelly said incredulously. "Are you filing charges?"

"I got what I deserved," he said gruffly as he turned sheepishly to face her. "Besides, I threw the first punch."

"Did you," Donnelly replied through amazed laughter. "Gee Jack, that'll make a nice campaign poster for you. I can just see the headline in the_ Ledger_: New DA Socks it to the Cops…literally."

"If I had a dime for every time someone's been concerned about the campaign that hasn't been, I wouldn't have to think about raising funds to run."

"Well, it looks like you'll live," Donnelly commented as she gave his injury one more appraising look. "This looks like it's at least a few days old so I know your jaw has nothing to do with why you're not back at the loft where you belong.-"

"Liz, I really don't want to get into this with you," he responded firmly as he turned and busied himself in the refrigerator.

"Fine, the ex-wife is always the last to know anyway," she said lightly as leaned against the counter. "Do mind at least telling me what you're looking for in there? I mean, you already have the liquor and the caffeine. What else do you need to make Irish coffee?"

"Whipped creme," he said as he gazed back at her with a roguish smile. "You used to take your Irish coffee with whipped creme, what kind of a man would I be if I forgot things like that?"

"Um, we're out," she said as her face went scarlet. "We- I – used the last of it last time I was here."

"No, you always keep a can way in the back. At least you did when we were married," he began with a chuckle. "Just in case you decided you wanted to…"

McCoy's voice trailed off as he glanced at Donnelly's face that now resembled the face of someone with a nasty sun burn. As she wordlessly hurried back into the other room he could feel his own face heat up as he thought about the pleasure his former wife took in imitate Sunday morning interludes that included lots of whipped crème and very few clothes.

In took McCoy a few minutes to rejoin Donnelly in the living room. Not only did her have wait for the coffee to finish brewing, he also had to will himself not to focus on the reaction he was having as he thought of the numerous Sunday morning he and his former wife had spent using up a canned of whipped crème themselves.

"I apologize, Liz. I wasn't thinking," he said when he handed her the steaming cup."I added some milk and sugar. Maybe that will work as a substitute for-"

"It's fine," she said uncomfortably as she leaned back on the cushion."You know, if you don't want to talk about what happened, maybe I should give you some time to yourself. It's late. I can make up Becky's old room-"

"It's only ten fifteen. Besides, you don't have to wait on me. I can make the bed up myself. Unless, you'd rather call it a night, yourself?"

The tension in her face began to vanish, as she studied McCoy curiously. While she and her former husband had always maintained a cordial relationship after their divorce, they had both taken great pains over the years to keep a safe distance between the other's personal life. Until she had begun seeing SVU commander Don Cragen, if McCoy had had any strong opinions about the men that had come and gone in her life, he had kept them to himself. If McCoy wasn't personally aware of the dangers of alcoholism, via the hell his alcoholic father put himself and his family through, Donnelly doubted he would have even voiced concerns about Cragen.

Listening to what wasn't said, as well as observing his manner and body language, Donnelly feared whatever was going on in his personal life was more serious than he'd ever be willing to let on to her.

"I'll stay up a while longer," she replied as she set the mug on the table. "But both of us getting drunk probably isn't a good idea."

"I have no intention of getting drunk."

"What you intend and what happens aren't always the same thing, are they Jack? Is that what this is about," Donnelly asked candidly, as she leaned closer to inspect his eyes.

"What?"

"Is the drinking becoming a problem in your marriage? Is that why-"

"I haven't fallen into the bottle since I found out I'll be enrolling a child in grade school at the same time I'll be applying for my social security benefits, if that's what you mean." He said with an amused sigh. Realizing the price for Donnelly's company would be either honesty or an endless round of twenty questions, McCoy shook his head. "She's not over her first husband, Liz. It's as simple as that. I know it. He knows it. The sad thing is she doesn't have a clue."

As he filled her in on Brooke's revelation earlier that night, Donnelly listened intently. Her first reaction was one of disgust and blind anger towards McCoy's new wife and her foolishness at telling McCoy something, anyone who really knew him, would know would have him throwing up walls in record time.

_Yes, honesty is usually the best policy,_ she thought impatiently. _But marriages are anything but usual…Brooke's been married before. She should know that as well as I do._

Donnelly's conclusion changed as McCoy revealed information about the miscarriage his current wife had suffered. A miscarriage her first husband had only learned about upon his return to New York after years in witness protection. While he spoke, Donnelly thought about the reactions she and McCoy had when she had lost their second child in a tumble down some stairs.

She shifted uncomfortably as she recalled how her own miscarriage had been the first definite step towards the end of her marriage to Jack McCoy.

"So are you buying it," she said when he finally grew silent. "Do you believe all this heartache and soul searching is about a kiss or two? "

"Maybe I'm a fool Liz, but I do," he admitted as he rubbed his eyes. "If there was more she wouldn't have stopped short of telling me if there was more to tell. What would be the point?"

The first benefit to Brooke McCoy giving her husband a sanitized version of whatever was transpiring between herself and her former husband seemed obvious to the former prosecutor; lying to McCoy could help the current Mrs. McCoy in avoiding an ugly court battle over custody for McCoy's unborn child. Donnelly resisted the urge to point that out as she looked into her ex-husband's troubled eyes.

Donnelly could see that being her usual blunt-to-the-point-of-being-ruthless self, would only serve to emotionally kick the man while he was down.

"What are you going to do Jack," Donnelly asked thoughtfully. "Or maybe the better question is what do you _want_ to do?"


	41. Chapter 41

Jack McCoy was all ready awake when he heard the front door softly close. After glancing at the fairy princess clock that remained on the nightstand in the bedroom his daughter used to call her own, McCoy realized it was too early for his ex-wife to be checking the walk for the Sunday paper.

After slipping on his discarded jeans, he cautiously pushed the bedroom door open just enough to see the back of the tall, hairless man who was about to disappear in the master bedroom.

McCoy rubbed the sleep from his eyes while he pondered the seriousness of Donnelly's relationship with Captain Donald Cragen. McCoy knew things had to have progressed well beyond mere infatuation for Liz Donnelly to have given the SVU chief a key to the cottage.

Just as he was about the close the door, he paused. He could hear his former wife's faint laughter as Cragen had inadvertently left the other door slightly ajar.

"I thought you were stuck in Manhattan until the case broke," Donnelly sleepily inquired.

"I was. Benson and Stabler's sting operation brought the Purp out of hiding. They brought the guy into central booking about an hour ago," Cragen replied as he sat down on the bed. "You look beat. I thought you'd have this place striped and ready for your wallpaper slave to put the new stuff up before breakfast."

"That was before I knew I was going to spend half the night talking Jack down from a crisis. By the way, keep your voice down," she said softly. "He's in the next room."

McCoy smiled to himself at the silence that followed. as curiosity got the better of him, he strained his ears to hear Cragen response.

Much to his surprise, the next sound he heard was the sound of a deep mirth filled laugh.

"You spent the night with Jack? Do I even_ want_ to know how that happened?"

"No," Donnelly said with the same kind of finality she used with her underling's in her days as a bureau chief.

McCoy could hear what sounded like a paper bag being crinkled and then more laughter.

"Don! What possessed you to buy this-"

"Well, it _is _Sunday. What would Sunday morning be at the Donnelly house without a little whipped creme-"

After hearing his ex-wife 'hush' the captain again, McCoy suddenly felt the way a child does when they discover Mom and Dad having sex for the first time. Realizing he was already on information overload where his ex-wife was concerned, he reached for his shirt and swiftly moved to the living room.

After grabbing his keys, helmet, and jacket he scribbled a hasty 'thank you' note for his former spouse and made sure to give her a wordless 'all clear' by closing the front door loud enough for her to know he'd gone.

As he started across the porch McCoy shook his head, recalling Brooke's words again that referred to the things divorced couples go through. Even after all these years, McCoy found himself edgy and ill at ease with what he knew had to be going on in 'his' house, with his ex-wife.

_If this is how I feel, God only knows what Sam feels every time he sees Brooke in my arms… or what Brooke felt when she watched Sam walk down the aisle to Danielle…Damn it, that still doesn't justify…_

Not for the first time, he silently cursed Sam Prescott's return from the dead, just as the fishing pole resting on the side of the house caught his eye.

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Almost twenty minutes later as he walked towards the pier, pole in hand, McCoy dutifully checked his voice mail for messages and mentally weighed whether or not to call his wife.

Fully aware of the punitive natural of his night long silence, McCoy grudgingly dialed the number for the loft. He was mildly surprised when his call was picked up by the answering machine. He could feel his pulse jump when it occurred to him Brooke's silence could be due to a problem with the pregnancy and not a form of childish retribution.

After hastily dialing her cell phone number, McCoy released an audible sigh of relief, as he heard her anxious voice speak his name on the other end.

"Is everything all right with the baby," he asked with almost as much anxiety as his wife. McCoy paused as he reached the parking lot and listened as Brooke reassured him that all was well and that she had left the loft early that morning to make a run at Columbia University's law library.

It was a trip he himself made when he was unable to sleep or felt weighed down by personal stresses.

He could hear the unasked question in the strained tone of her voice. Thinking back to his conversation with Donnelly, he resisted the urge to be bastard enough to make her ask him herself.

"I did a lot of thinking last night. I should be back in the city around three. I can meet you at the loft then and we can talk if you think you'd be interested?"

McCoy knew his wife better than to expect her to dissolve into grateful platitudes. Her response was short, but her tone held the faintest note of relief when she said, "I would be more than interested. I'd like that very much, Jack."


	42. Chapter 42

McCoy hadn't been fishing since the summer before his current marriage. By the time he'd bought bait and a few other essential items, the early morning fog was all but gone, leaving the promise of a bright sunny morning in its wake.

As he let out his first cast, the dull ache in his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten in more than twelve hours. He'd been so pleasantly surprised that his head wasn't throbbing after the amount of liquor he'd consumed the night before, that he'd given no thought to any other physical consideration.

Promising himself he'd make a run to the bakery for coffee and Danish after catching his first fish for the day, he turned his focus back to the waves and the sea gulls on the horizon. Eventually, his mind returned to the question Liz Donnelly had asked several hours before.

"_What are you going to do Jack? Or is the real question what do you want to do?"_

"_What do I want to do," he answered with a sheepish grin that gave Donnelly no choice but to grin back at him. "Do you mean_ besides_ going over to Central Park West and punching Prescott's lights out before hurling him into the next plane bound for Tulsa?"_

"_Yeah Jack," Donnelly quipped with the sarcasm that had become her trademark. "I mean besides committing felony assault. With my luck, Sam Prescott would not only press charges, the case would come up on my docket and I'd have to sentence my child's father to the max just to avoid the appearance of favoritism."_

"_Which is exactly why I came here instead of Central Park West," he said as he reached over to embrace her. "Keeping your life uncomplicated is what gets me up in the morning."_

"_Right," Donnelly countered as she returned his hug and remained beside him. "I'll hold you to that the next time one of your ADA's brings me a case has as many holes in it as that screen you were going to replace in Becky's old room. Now answer the question before I hold you in contempt."_

"_I thought all ex-wife's held there husband's in contempt-"_

"_Jack."_

"_What do I want to do," he repeated with a sigh. "If I knew that Liz I wouldn't be sitting here, would I? She's in love with another man, what can I do?"_

"_You can stop being so dramatic and think about what she said, not what you heard," Donnelly said firmly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "She said she and her Ex knew their time had passed – or were those your words?"_

"_Her words, not mine. Although making out in the man's office is an odd way to mark the passage of –"_

"_Oh Jack, give it a rest all ready. If you'd given up on her, you'd be sitting on Alyssa Goodwin's doorstep, not mine," Donnelly interjected impatiently. "Do I really need to remind you how traumatic a miscarriage __is? Do I need to remind you of al people, of the kind of emotions that get stirred up when you lose a child? Not to mention the fact those two have dealt with resurrection, divorce, and remarriage in –what? Barely a year?"_

"_The divorce took six months and then it took us another six or so to actually-"_

"_The point is, even if I don't agree with what happened, I suppose it_ is_ understandable. We both know what my miscarriage did to our marriage-"_

"_It wasn't just the miscarriage –,"he began._

"_Jack, losing the baby made us both raw emotionally," Donnelly said softly as she searched his eyes for understanding. "It also brought us together. Quite frankly, I don't think you were ever more loving and attentive than right after I lost the baby. Losing a child brought us closer together than even having Becky did."_

_McCoy pondered her words as he became aware of their close proximity to one another. As he inhaled the briefest whiff of her perfume, McCoy reluctantly admitted an equally brief, but sincere, understanding of the temptation Sam Prescott must have felt when he found himself alone with Brooke as they faced such an emotional moment together._

"_Maybe Prescott should have considered buying Brooke a puppy instead of-"_

_Donnelly cut him off with a playful smack as she chuckled at the reference to the golden retriever McCoy had brought home while she had been in the hospital recovering from her own miscarriage._

"_You bought the dog for Becky, not for me."_

"_That was just the line I gave you to guilt you into letting it stay," McCoy countered as he looked at her smugly."I knew five minutes with the thing and you'd be more attached to it than our three year old was."_

"_Twenty years and you're still gloating about putting one over on me," she said with a smirk. "God, no wonder you've been called arrogant more than once."_

"_There was a time when you found that arrogance charming," McCoy countered, before impulsively reaching for her. _

McCoy was still thinking about that kiss, when the abrupt pull on his line almost sent him over the railing and into the ocean below.


	43. Chapter 43

After a losing valiant fight with a creature from the sea that not only got away, but took McCoy's bait with him for good measure, the DA made his way down the pier and towards Rachel's Bakery. A few minutes later, he was sitting at a corner table with one of the bakery's award winning cheese danishes and a strong cup of the house coffee of the day.

The sweetness of the pastry only served to remind him of the sweetness of his ex-wife's surprisingly soft lips against his.

_God what the hell was I thinking,_ he demanded of himself as he thought about his former wife's response afterwards.

_Time seemed to stand still as McCoy tasted and explored first her lips then, meeting surprisingly little resistance, her mouth. There was a reason both McCoy and Donnelly made a point of coming into physical contact only at the most public of events; events where they both knew an embrace or a kiss on the cheek couldn't turn into something more._

_The chemistry that had existed between them from day one, although dormant for years had never really died, despite the failure of their marriage. _

"_Payback or just looking to have both sides of your jaw swollen," Donnelly breathlessly shot at him, as she playfully pushed him back on to his side of the sofa._

"Jack? How the hell are you and why is your wife sitting in a dreary old law library on this beautiful spring day, instead of sitting here with you and one of Rachel's amazing treats?"

McCoy gave Jack Cohen a startled stare as he looked up at the younger man standing beside him.

"You've spoken to Brooke this morning," McCoy said as he glanced at his watch.

"I called her last night to try to entice both of you into driving out this morning. The fish are biting and I thought the three of us could try our luck at some ocean fishing this morning," Cohen replied as he sat in the chair McCoy gestured to.

"Of course, once Brooke reminded me how well ocean fishing goes with sea sickness and sea sickness goes so nicely with morning sickness…"

McCoy nodded as he laughed softly while his thoughts turned to his wife's first time on a sail boat, several months before. A trip which she had spent the majority of her time in the bathroom, bowing to the porcelain God.

"So what's the deal with the law library," Cohen persisted good naturedly. "I mean, she can access West Law from your place. The only time she dives into the sacks any more is if she's pissed and wants a distract..."Cohen flushed slightly as he realized what the answer was to his question. Meeting McCoy's sheepish gaze, the younger man shrugged his shoulders. "Whoops."

"Don't worry about it, Jake," McCoy said before finishing his pastry."I know how close you two are. I don't know how much she's told you, but –"

"Nothing," Cutter interjected flatly. "And that's the truth, Jack. Ever since you and I maneuvered her into talking to Sam about the miscarriage, she's dried up like a desert during a drought. Besides, now that you two are husband and wife, I figured she'd be telling you all of her deep darks. Which is how it should be, right?"

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By the time Brooke McCoy crashed in the middle of the unmade bed, her eyes were blurry from reading the fine print of the latest Supreme Court rulings and dissenting opinions for hours in the law library at Columbia University.

After a night of tossing and turning, Brooke had gone to the library at first light, simply to try to keep her mind from replaying the scene between herself and her husband over in her mind. It had taken every ounce of self control not to fall apart after McCoy walked out the door. But, knowing how much she had already pushed the stress envelope that week, she feared what giving into more emotional upset would do to her unborn child.

Feeling surprisingly revitalized after a light breakfast and completing her walk to the campus, the icing on the cake had been the phone call she had received as she started up the steps of the library. Hearing the sound of her husband's voice had made her feel like a weigh had been lifted from her shoulders.

Knowing what a proud man Jack McCoy was, the fact that he had finally decided to end the silence between them meant the hard part was over. The fact that they were talking meant there was hope. Knowing there was hope, meant she could hold on to the expectation they could move on from the painful point they had reached.

Once she knew they would be talking before the end of the day, she found herself easily able to focus on the task at hand, as the time seemed to fly by.

By one o'clock Brooke was ready to call it a day and head home to get ready for McCoy's return. On her way back to the loft, she stopped by McCoy's favorite deli and ordered lunch for the both of them. By the time she made it home, the light take out bag felt heavy in her hands and her legs suddenly seemed to feel like lead.

Torn between wanting to shower before she tidied up the loft and her bodies sudden need for rest, she gave in and closed her eyes as the bright red numbers on the bedside clock flipped to 2:15.

When she opened her eyes again the bright red numbers were blocked from her view by Jack McCoy's concerned face staring down at her.

Not quite awake, Brooke smiled up at him and kissed him lightly on his lips.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself, sleepy head," McCoy answered softly as he opened his arms so she could curl up beside him.

"How long have I been out?"

"Well, it was just before three when I got here and it's almost five now, so-"

McCoy could feel her body stiffen as sudden became more alert. She looked up at him hesitantly and started to pull back until he pressed her to him, sending the unspoken message she was indeed welcome in his arms.

"Oh, wow. I meant to close my eyes just for a minute. I'm sorry I-"

"Stop it, Brooke. You and the baby needed the rest. Now, let me have a look at those feet," he said as he moved further down the bed. "Last night the swelling was pretty bad."

"They were fine this morning," she said seriously as she waited for him to finish his critical examination each of her feet. "They were fine when I got to Columbia. I checked again before I left the library and they were fine, otherwise I would have hailed a cab."

McCoy nodded as he gave her foot a playful squeeze.

"I know you want this baby as much as I do, Brooke. You don't have to convince me. I know you're being as carefully as you know how to be. My walking out on you certainly didn't make it easier for you to relax last night."

"You did what you had to do. After what I dumped on you, walking out was probably the best option you had," she replied quietly, as she ran a hand through her disheveled hair. Still feeling very much like a defendant waiting for some sort of verdict to be handed down, Brooke resisted the urge to ask for the answers she hoped to hear. Instead she sat up and motioned towards the kitchen. "I'm a mess. Why don't you grab the stuff from Klein's that I picked up and eat something while I freshen up."

"Do you seriously think you can bring a Klein Hot Pastrami Special into this place and not have it devoured in a matter of minutes," McCoy retorted unapologetically. "And you think you know me so well? That thing was gone as soon as I was sure you were just napping."

"What was I thinking," she asked with a chuckle as she opened the bathroom door. "Any chance my ham and cheese is still in tact?"

"Would I take food out of our child's mouth, so to speak? Listen, why don't you eat and then we can take a quick walk around the corner. There's something I want to show you, if you think you're up to it?"

"Sure," she said curiously. "But, I thought you wanted to talk? I mean-"

"Brooke, I'm not going to say I happy about the connection you and Sam still have. I'm not. I don't think either of you handled … things happen," he continued, while thinking about the mix of emotions he'd felt the night before with his own former spouse. "We can talk about it later. Sufficed to say, I didn't marry you to cut and run at the first sign of trouble. We'll get through this; now go get ready before the store closes."


	44. Chapter 44

"I'll be damned," Sam Prescott murmured as he re-read the last line of the file he held in his hand.

Once Prescott had officially removed the clinic bomber case from Suffolk county's jurisdiction, he immediately began reviewing any and all records pertaining to the clinic and the deceased doctor. Most of what he'd read that afternoon held little if any value in building his case against David Washington, the man who was accused of planning and carrying out the bombing.

After spending most of the day reviewing files in his office, Prescott had loaded up his briefcase with what remained and headed back to Manhattan. He was down to the last handful, when he came across a name he knew all too well.

"Sam, did you find a link to Washington and one of the patients," Danielle Melnick asked, as she paused in the hallway outside Prescott's open study door.

Prescott glanced up at his wife as he slipped his reading glasses a little higher on his nose.

"I wish. Nope. I've been thorough damn near two thousand patient files. I figured by now I'd find somethin'," he commented as he slipped his feet from the desk top.

"Isn't that what you have assistants for?"

"You know, even if the office wasn't short handed, I've always been one to review every lick of information on a case personally. Assistants are kind of a stop gap for me in case I miss somethin' on the first crack I take."

"Well, it sounds like a good way to blind yourself due to eyes strain," Melnick remarked with a sigh. "Something caught your eyes a moment ago. Maybe something that will clear the defendant?"

Prescott shook his head at his wife's wisecrack as she winked at him before continuing down the hall and out of sight. Returning his attention to the file at hand, he tapped it thoughtfully against the desk before grudgingly turning to the 'M's' in his rolodex.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Brooke gazed in wonderment, first at the pet store window, then back at her husband as he moved to open the door.

"You're not serious?"

"You don't like golden retrievers," McCoy asked with feigned disappointment, as he lowered his head for effect. "You know, a man can forgive a lot of things, but a woman not liking golden retrievers? Maybe our marriage is in more trouble than I thought."

"It not the breed; it's our dwelling," she responded candidly, as she watched his hand reach into the pen that contained five golden balls of fur and return with the indisputably the most adorable of the litter. "Jack, we live in a _loft_. A loft that has no yard, no patio, not even a balcony."

"If you let me keep him, I promise I'll be the one who walks him when he needs to go out at two a m," McCoy with as he held the curious creature out to her.

Though Brooke's amused eyes, the wide eyed innocence of his expression made McCoy look almost as cute as the puppy.

"What about the baby," Brooke asked as she took the animal he offered her, who immediately licked her face in greeting before snuggling against her.

"The baby will need a companion. A pet is like a best friend that sleeps over every night," McCoy explained earnestly. "Liz and I got Becky one when she was a toddler and she spent hours with the dog. She was like his second shadow."

"You know what a responsibility it is to have a pet, Jack," Brooke said with equal somberness, in spite of the fact she could feel her heart alreadybeginning to melt. Given the circumstances, agreeing to purchase of a puppy seemed like a small price to pay in order to secure her husband's happiness. "Someone will have to not only walk it, but feed it and bathe it and with a retriever, brushing is going be essential."

"I can do that."

"Until your next serial killer or child rapist comes to town," Brooke said more to the puppy than McCoy. "Yes, then where will he be, puppy? Down at that nasty old office barking orders and reading case files,_ that's_ where he'll be."

"Having a dog will give me an excuse to delegate more," McCoy countered firmly, as he ran a hand over the baby fine hair of the pup. "If I know the dog needs it's evening walk, I'll be more inclined to hand off whatever crisis is going on at the moment to Cutter."

Brooke rolled her eyes as she handed him the puppy and moved to the array of kennels that were sitting at the center of the shop.

"If you're busy with the puppy, _when_ will you have time to play with the baby or read the baby _Goodnight Moon_, for that matter," Brooke asked skeptically.

"I promise, I'll play with the baby as much as I play with the dog," he said with a smirk, just as his phone began to ring. "I'll bet you didn't know when you read _Goodnight Moon _to small children and animals, it makes not only the babies sleepy, but puppies as well."

"Is that right?"

"It certainly is," he responded as he kissed her on the forehead."Listen, if you don't like Dasher here-"

"Dasher?"

"Well, that's what_ I_ call him," McCoy said in a conspiring tone that made Brooke throw back her head as laughter burst from her lips.

"You've already _named_ him?"

"Only because he ran up so fast when I walked the in shop. The name seemed to make sense," McCoy explained as he fished his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. "If you don't want a big dog, take a look around while I check this. Maybe you'll see one we can agree on or,' he added with a twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe we can get two dogs? One you like and-"

"You are crazy, you know that? Just answer your phone before it goes to voice mail."

"Too late," McCoy remarked as he glanced at the read out on the phone. "Couldn't be too important, it's not a number I recognize."

McCoy slipped the phone back into his pocket and dutifully followed Brooke as she alternating ooed and awed until she finally came to stop at the cage of a black and white dachshund terrier mix.

"It's too little," McCoy mockingly warned, while he watched her removed the tiny pup form the cage.

"Little is good in a loft, Jack," she reminded him as the two dogs rubbed noses. "Besides, they're already friends."

"You know, I didn't really expect we'd get two-"

"No, no," she said in a scolding tone as she wrapped one arm around McCoy and while she held the pup in the other arm. "You said two. You can't reneg on a promise-"

"I never_ promised_ –,"McCoy began to sputter.

"Oh so now you're word means_ nothing_," she said dramatically, as she leaned closer. "You know Jack, your credibility isn't a boomerang. Once you lose it, it's gone. So, if word gets out the New York county DA reneged on a promise to his wife…well… I can't_ begin _to imagine the ramifications for you politically."

"Is that right," he said with a chuckle as he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her passionately. The sound of the pups squealing between them, as well as the sound of his cell phone, made him step back.

"Well, someone is almost as persistent as you are about this puppy business," Brooke commented as she slipped a hand into his pocket."Maybe you better give me Dasher and find out who wants you so much."

"I suppose I better," he said with a sigh as he handed her the dog. McCoy frowned at the puzzled expression on Brooke's face as she stared down at his phone. "Do you recognize the number?"

"Yeah," she said as she swallowed to clear the lump in her throat, while she wondered why in the world her ex-husband was calling her Jack McCoy.


	45. Chapter 45

Annoyed didn't even begin to describe McCoy's feelings as he walked purposefully towards the bridge that at the heart of Central Park's west side. Seeing the lone figure standing at the center of the bridge, McCoy unconsciously clenched the fists that were hidden inside the front pockets of his jeans.

Not only was Sam Prescott's timing bad, it was inconvenient as well. McCoy had taken extra care with his tone and manner as he left his wife, so as not to add more new difficulties now that the couple had made the first step to move passed Brooke's revelation from the night before. After putting her in a cab, with the promise of returning to decide the puppy predicament the next day, McCoy had headed towards the park on foot. Walking instead of riding, he hoped to have enough time to regain some sense of composure, before confronting his wife's former husband.

"I can see by the look on your face Mal's all ready-"

Whether it was the unwelcome familiarity of the nickname only Prescott called his wife or simply the need to lash out after a night of too little sleep and too much scotch, McCoy would never know. What did know, almost immediately, was how empowered he felt by the feel of his knuckles crashing into the other man's nose.

McCoy's punch sent Prescott flying back against the railing. The only evidence of his discomfort was the widening of his eyes and the stream of blood he moved to stop by methodicallyapplying a handkerchief to his nose.

"I 'pose I had that comin'."

"If I gave you what you had coming, I'd spend the rest of my life in Attica," McCoy retorted gruffly. "You're not worth losing whatever time I have to get to know my child. You called. You talk."

Prescott nodded before carefully bending down to pick up the file that had flown out of his grasp a few seconds before.

"This can't be about a case," McCoy commented upon seeing the seal of the US attorney's office on the face of the manila folder. "You're not even working in Manhattan right now."

"It's not about a case. Not the way you mean, anyway," Prescott explained as he checked and then reapplied the bloody cloth. "I found this while I was going through Janine Connelly's cases file this afternoon. I'd been through so many file before I got to it, I didn't even realize what I had until I was half way through it."

McCoy glanced at the name on the top of the file and a look of utter disgust formed on his face.

"These are Brooke's medical records," he said as he started to hand Prescott the file. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't have you disbarred? Not only are you compromising your own case by showing an outside party this, you're violating Brooke's privacy in the most –"

"I know what I'm doin' and once you've looked this over, if you feel obliged to go after my license, so be it," Prescott responded, unfettered. "You know Jack, when you've lost as much time as I have…when you've lost your identity and everything you thought you held dear…it makes it much easier to do what's right and not worry about what you might lose because you're doin' it."

"Spare me the sanctimonious babble of a man that deserted his wife and child," McCoy shot back arrogantly, as he looked down at the file his advisory refused to reclaim. "Maybe you can con Brooke with that 'I had no idea what my leavin' would do to you darlin ' crap you like to hand her, but it doesn't wash with me. You knew she was trying to get pregnant when you left her. I've seen what she's like in the first trimester. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she was pregnant, once the morning sickness kicked in. You had to know and yet you left her anyway."

The look Prescott shot him out of the corner of his eye made McCoy certain his bluff had been dead on.

"Didn't see _you_ runin' out to buy cigars before Doc Connelly's test's confirmed the rabbit died," Prescott said in a tone so conciliatory that McCoy ached to punch him again. "However, I didn't come here to rehash somethin' that is neither here nor there now. I came here because if you love her as much as I think you do, you need to know-"

"Anything I need to know about my wife, I can find out from my wife, not you," he shot back as he waved the file towards the water. "Now take the damn thing before I throw in the lake."

"This pregnancy is gonna kill her," Prescott said in a tone filled with enough regret that McCoy knew there was no mistake. Prescott met the other man bewildered gaze with a sorrowful shrug as he continued. "It's all in the file. When she lost our child, Doc Connelly told her the damage done by the miscarriage made another pregnancy akin to a death sentence. Jack, if she doesn't lose the baby before it comes to term, you're gonna lose Brooke before she even has a chance to hold that child of yours."


	46. Chapter 46

The look of utter shock on enveloped Dr. Elizabeth Olivet's face . Instantly both annoyed and offended by his unannounced intrusion, she opened her mouth to make a cutting remark about false friends as she started glared up at him.

The look of despair in Jack McCoy's shiny eyes made her hesitate. It was a look Olivet hadn't seen on his face since Claire Kincaid's funeral.

"I know I don't have any right to ask you for anything, Liz. But, I'm not a doctor," he said as he looked down at the file in his hand. "I can read the words, but if we're not talking forensics...an autopsy report… I can't make heads or tails of this."

Olivet slipped the file from his fingers. Her eyes widened in surprise as she read the name on the tab and noted the seal on the face of the file.

"Do I want to know how you got this?"

"Probably not," he whispered as he rubbed impatiently at his eyes."I'm told she can't take the baby to term. I haven't gone home yet. She thinks I had to go into the office…"

Olivet could see her neighbor get off the elevator just behind the DA. With a compassionate smile, she opened her door and motioned for McCoy to come in.

Olivet watched sympathically as her former lover glanced about the room, as if unsure as to how he had arrived there. Olivet flushed with embarrassed shame as she thought about the biting remark that had been on the tip of her tongue, just moments before. The forlorn look on the haggarded face of Jack McCoy made,what Olivet viewed as his betrayal during the Waxman trial a few weeks before, seem trivial.

"Want a drink, Jack?"

"More than anything," he quipped as he allowed himself to be led to the sofa."But I have to face her sober, Liz. I have to be strong for her when I tell her she has to… if you concur with what I've been told…Brooke can't continue the pregnancy."

Olivet set the file on the coffee table as she sat beside McCoy. He looked at her quizzically as she averted her eyes.

"You won't have an easy time of it," Olivet said gently as she reached for his hands. "She has her heart set on having that baby Jack."

McCoy's eyes widened in disbelief as he jumped up, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation.

"Of course! You're her analyst! Makes perfect sense Brooke would tell her _shrink_ and not someone as incidental as her husband! God, how can she have so little faith in me? In us?"

"Come on Jack," Olivet replied as she patiently watched him start towards the bar and then, almost as an afterthought, turn back to her. "She's knew if she told you, there wouldn't be any room for discussion. Besides, your wife is a very determined woman, especially when she's working from the stand point of major denial regarding the dangers of her pregnancy. Brooke hasn't accepted the fact she might not survive giving birth to this baby. She has more rationalizations for going to term with this than I any criminal I've talked to does for any heinous act. Trust me, this isn't about you. It's about Brooke and her desire to be a mother to your child."

"But she won't have the chance to be a mother will she, Liz? From what I read, Dr. Connelly was almost certain another baby would abort spontaneously or Brooke would suffer massive complications in delivery-"

"Yes, but what is the ultimate gift a mother gives her child," Olivet countered as she leaned intently towards McCoy. "Brooke feels any sacrifice she makes is just another way of protecting her child. If bringing this child to term costs Brooke her life, she justifies that cost as being outweighed by the fact she'd still be giving her child life; life with its father –"

"Who's going to be lucky if he lives long enough to see this child through to its high school graduation."

"I'm just telling you how the situation looks from your wife's point of view, Jack. I'm not saying Brooke's logic isn't flawed."

"Frankly, I'm surprised you'd tell me anything after what I had Mike do to you in court," McCoy admitted sheepishly. "Much less reveal what I know Brooke told you under the guise of doctor/patient confidentiality."

Olivet gave him a shrewd glance before picking the file off the table.

"Under any other circumstances I wouldn't have," she admitted as she began thumbing through the file. " Alos, remeber, I'm a PHD, not an M.D. I can only tell you so much. But, since you obviously have her medical record all ready, whatever I tell you could have easily come by analyzing what you already had. Besides, I've been trying to get Brooke to realize she had to open up to you about… well… a multitude of things that I will not discuss with you now-"

"She told me about what's been going on with Prescott, if that's what you're talking about."

Olivet shrugged her shoulders, inwardly smiling with relief.

"Be that as it may, let's focus on the problem at hand and maybe together we can figure out how you can help your wife."


	47. Chapter 47

When she opened her eyes the bedroom was dark, except for the dim hint of light that shone through the bedrrom window that came the street light below. The steady sound of McCoy breathing told her that her long absent husband was lying nearby. As she strained to look over his shoulder at the clock, Brooke could see it was just past midnight.

When she had returned to the loft, her mind had been filled with psoosible ways to make having two furry additions feasible. As much as she tried to focus on the pupply problem, she couldn't help but wonder why Sam Prescott had insisted on seeing McCoy face to face before the afernoon was over.

The excuse McCoy had given her was flimsy at best. But given the emotional few days they had just been through, she chose to let the subject drop with a kiss and a quick wave as McCoy left the pet shop for Central Park. As she turned the possible reasons for the meeting over in her mind, only two made any sense to her. Both possibilities appeared equally intrusive as well as reckless in her mind.

"Jack," she whispered, hoping to illicit a response as she ran a careful hand over the arm that was now wrapped around her.

She sighed resignedly after receiving no response. As she turned back on her side, she felt McCoy stir beside her.

"I love you," he said softly as he drew her closer.

"I love you too."

"Enough to forgive me for punching your Ex in the nose?"

Brooke laughed softly.

"I thought you agreed to play nice."

"I did play nice. He's still breathing. That's as nice as I could manage," he replied snidely as he rested his chin against her shoulder. "Besides, he had it coming."

"Jack, I was as much at fault-"

"Hush. Just let me be a macho bully until morning. You can properly chastise me after breakfast. Unless Danielle gets a hold of me first."

"Sorry, Danielle will have to wait until Monday. We have puppies to pick out in the morning," she reminded him solemnly. "Puppies and maybe then we take a run at Stroud's and pick up a copy of _Goodnight Moon_ for the baby?"

Brooke looked up at him as she felt his grip on her tighten. Even with the limited amount of light, she could see his eyes were shiny.

"Let's decide that later," he said hoarsely. "Right now, isn't your curiosity aroused? Don't you want to know why Sam insisted on seeing me?"

"Judging by the look in your eyes, I think I know why," she said sadly as she shifted to fully face him.

Brooke's first fear had been that Prescott had felt the need to stand up for her, to 'protect' her from whatever wrath her current husband might feel after learning of the intimacy that she and the former husband had shared recently. But tears would be the last thing an encounter like that would invoke in Jack McCoy. That led her to conclude Prescott still maintained his habit of going through every piece of paper in connection with a case himself.

In this case, those papers would have to include patient records from the clinic Brooke had gone to for years.

"Doctor's can be wrong Jack. Even good ones. You have every right to be angry-," she began before he pressed a finger to her lips.

"I can't raise this child without its mother, Brooke," he said in a tone that held only sorrow, as she wiped the tears from his cheeks. "We have to make a choice. I know it's not a fair choice. God knows it's not an easy one, but the longer you wait the harder-"

"We've both all ready lost a child, Jack. I won't put either of us through that again," she said as her own eyes began to fill. "We've already been through so much. I know I was apprehensive when I found out I was pregnant, but the more I think about it, the more it seems right to try to take the baby to term. You're a good father Jack. If worse comes to worse-"

"Brooke, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you,"he interjected with finality that made Brooke's eyes widened. "I can't raise a child without you. I know that might sound selfish to you, but it's the way I feel. If I were twenty or fifteen or even ten years younger we might have had something to talk about," he said as he reached for her face and held it in his hands. "But now? It wouldn't be fair to the baby."

"You talk like you're an old man," she shot back defiantly."I've done the math. I know the odds. But Jack, you're health is good. Your mind is sharper than most people's minds are at thirty. I know it's a lot to ask -a lot to have thrown at you all at once- but if we just-"

McCoy silently cursed, as he silenced his wife with a kiss. When he'd spoken with Liz Olivet, she had warned him how deep Brooke's denial was. Together the pair had come up with a single way to change his wife's mind. It was a card McCoy had hoped he wouldn't have to play. A strategy that left a bad taste in his mouth as he turned it over in his mind.

Yet if it was the only way in keep Brooke safe...to keep her from putting herself at what seemed to be certain risk...

"Brooke, you're not only taking a huge gamble with your own life," He began as he brushed the hair from her eyes. "If something happens during delivery and you're not here for the baby...If something happens to me as well...be it a heart attack or some nut decides to put me on another hit list... you're running the risk of leaving our baby alone. Neither of us will be here to love or protect it. I know you don't want to leave the baby alone do you, honey?"

Brooke's eyes were like saucers. McCoy wasn't sure if she was simply processing his words or if Brooke realized the game he was playing. He couldn't tell if she immediately recognized the words he was paraphrasing from when she had spoken of her miscarriage.

"Jack, don't-," she started, as her voice began to waver.

"I know you love our baby too much to let that happen," he said continued; hating his own ruthlessness, yet more than willing to use her most devasting loss to keep him from facing life without her. "Let our baby go be with its sibling. They'll have each other until our time comes. Your first baby will look after this one, I'm sure of it. Both of your babies will together, maybe that's what our child was destined to do, from the start."

Brooke looked up at her husband. She searched his face as she tried to grasp the meaning of his words.

"Destined? I don't understand..."

McCoy gather her in his arms and rocked her back and forth. It minutes seemed like hours, as he tried to find his voice again while he sobbed along with his wife.

"Maybe our baby was meant to give his brother or sister someone to love until you are with him once again."


End file.
